The Other Stark Girl
by A-Song-of-Quill-and-Feather
Summary: Alys Stark was not her sister. She did not have much wolfs blood to her, timid and gentler than her twins wild and untamed spirit. But in the aftermath of her father and brothers death at the hand of a mad king, she must find her own strengths and tap into her Stark blood to survive as a hostage in Kings Landing during a war that would change the seven kingdoms.
1. Fire and Ash

**_Jaime_**

In truth, it hadn't taken Jaime long to learn the harsh realities of the world. It took only one burning of a man who didn't truly deserve it. Followed by the terrified screams of the queen that evening to bring the truth of his life crashing upon him.

He'd always idealized knights. Striving to be the best with the sword and honorable as well. That was what a knight was in the stories, a skilled and valiant warrior who protects the weak and vulnerable. That was what he thought he'd become when the Sword of the Morning knighted him on the battlefield. That was what he thought the Kingsguard was when Cersei proposed his joining to avoid marrying the Tully girl and to keep them close together at court.

Perhaps once upon a time it had been. But now it was a mask to be worn posing as honor. It was gilded armor and white cloaks that were costumes meant to show their status.

It wasn't long before Jaime saw past the mask he hadn't known he had donned. He was a knight, but he wasn't expected to protect anyone but a paranoid king who burned people alive for joy, and then raped his queen with the ash still on his cloak.

He'd always been in awe of these costumed knights, relishing in the stories of the great Kingsguard warriors and how they held the most honorable position that could be achieved, protecting the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. When he first visited Kings Landing to see his father and sister he sought out the training yard and spent hours watching the knights train, watching their moves and knowing he could match them all if given the chance.

But, if he was honest, he hadn't truly considered joining the prestigious order until Cersei put it in his mind. He had imagined, played pretend some days, but when she told him that he could do it and that if he did they'd be together in Kings Landing it was all that occupied his mind until the cloak was secured on him at Harrenhal.

He'd never felt more honorable than when Ser Gerold Hightower raised him to the Kingsguard. That feeling of pride and honor continued even after he learned his father was no longer the hand and that Cersei would no longer be in Kings Landing. He'd been disappointed and angry at their father but his pride in his new position didn't begin to deteriorate until he saw the first man burn to death.

As his first year as a knight of the Kingsguard went by Jaime became quite proficient at blocking the horror out, escaping within himself to avoid facing the truth of what happens in the Red Keep. At first he'd been angry when he found that the others looked the other way at the kings' actions. But he learned quickly to say nothing when his Lord Commander himself told him that they had vowed to protect the king, not to judge him.

So he did that, when the king decided a man's punishment would be burning Jaime turned his thoughts to Casterly Rock and his sister. When he was to guard the queens' door and could hear her cries as the King raped her Jaime recalled the words to songs he'd learned as a child to drown the noise.

Now Jaime stands once more at the foot of the Iron Throne. The skulls of ancient dragons watching as the Starks are brought before Aerys Targaryen. Brandon Stark and Alys Stark had arrived first with a party of men accompanying. Brandon Stark had apparently yelled outside the walls of the city for the crown prince Rhaegar to come out and die. He and his party were thrown in the black cells of the Keep. The king summoned all their fathers to answer charges of plotting to kill the prince. Jaime learned not long after their arrest that Rhaegar had run off with the other Stark girl, the one he'd crowned Queen of Love and Beauty at the Tourney Jaime had become a Kingsguard at.

The others in the party and their fathers were executed, save for some Glover boy and the Starks themselves. The father had demanded a trial by combat and Jaime had felt his stomach drop as he cursed the Northern lords' idiocy.

Now the day was here, Jaime stood by the throne and his eyes followed as the Starks entered, the father and son ahead of the daughter. Jaime noted she looked as young as him, or perhaps younger by a year or two. He forced the realization of her fate from his mind and instead wondered of whether Tyrion had written him back yet.

He wasn't surprised when the king declared fire as his champion, nor when the Starks began to protest and struggle as they were restrained and prepared. The father was put into a suit of armor, and the son chained by the throat. Jaime moved without thought when he was told to restrain the daughter, she struggled against him but he held her in place with no true difficulty.

Was she to be spared? He wondered, or perhaps burned after her family. He heard her cries as the fire was lit and her father's own screams began as he was cooked alive in his suit of armor. She still struggled against Jaime's grasp as her brother was choked while reaching for the sword that would allow him to cut his father free.

It was only when her father's screams died and her brothers' breath left him that she lost the fight, falling limp in his arms and her sobs quieting to a silent numbness. While the king declared his 'champions' victory, the Kings hand, Owen Merryweather, instructed Jaime to take the girl to a room in the maiden vault, and guard the door until it was decided what to do with her. Jaime simply nodded and left the throne room with her, glad to move away from a far too familiar stench.

He would say he escorted her to her new rooms but in truth it was more as though he was dragging her through the red keep. She leaned heavily upon him and her feet dragged more than they walked, Jaime couldn't help but wonder if he should say something. But what would he even say?

He stops outside the room Merryweather had instructed him to put her in and opens the door slowly. She pauses outside it and he wonders if he'll have to drag her in. But it's only a brief pause before she follows his lead into the room, still resting heavily on him but less as though he were pulling her along and more as though she didn't trust herself to stay upright without him.

One glance around the room he recognizes why Merryweather told him this one. There were no windows within the room, and the room itself was close to the guard quarters and far from any significant exits of the keep. He slowly led the Stark girl to the bed and waited until she'd sat herself and seemed as though she wouldn't collapse before he headed for the door.

"Wait…" her voice was barely a sound, but it was a broken one. He paused, considering the merits of ignoring her, he had no reason to speak with her, if he let himself think of the reality of this situation he would know it would be better to simply leave as she'll likely be dead soon enough.

But he hardly thought things through with honest effort, so he turned and looked at her. Her eyes were grey like stone and wide as they looked at him, begging for something from him that he couldn't give. She wiped at her cheek as she seemed to mull over what she had meant to say. "What…" she pauses once more before finally asking, "what will he do with me?"  
Jaime sighed, glancing at the northern girl. She had the Stark look, dark hair and a long face. It was a young face. But that wouldn't save her if Aerys got the itch to burn her alive, nothing could save someone with that fate. But as her eyes stared him down, awaiting an answer Jaime knows she doesn't want, he can't find the heart to inform her of her future. So he simply shrugs, "I haven't a single clue," before leaving the room and taking his position in front of her door.

**_Alys _**

She believes it has been near four days before she sees anyone other than a handmaid or guard. She believes this due to the amount of times food has been brought to her. She hasn't eaten much of it, especially the first day and half, but she recalls them bringing it. Twice a day, what she can only assume is in the morning and in the evening. Though she hasn't been sure which was which as she hardly has left her bed unless pulled from it.

After the man who'd brought her there, a member of the Kingsguard she believes, left her with little idea of what was intended with her she found no way to distract her thoughts. She found patches of ash stuck to her skin or clothes and so she'd stripped herself quickly, rubbing her skin raw with the water left in the room until she was clear and throwing her clothes off into a corner while wishing there was a window to throw them out of.

She'd found the room empty of any other clothes, and thus she simply crawled under the far too warm and soft covers of her bed and let herself be smothered by them until consciousness left her.

Sleep was no more pleasant than being awake.

In sleep she found her dreams filled only with the throne room, green fire licking at the armor her father wears and the sight of her brother struggling against a collar to free him. The first night she woke choking as though she was still breathing in the ash.

When she is awake it's hard to not think of it. The smell, the sight, the feeling of the heat from flames or the sounds of screaming and choking. It assaulted her senses to the point where she started to feel as though she were to die. But then a handmaiden came in, with a plate of food and a basin of water for her. She appeared to notice Alys' lack of sleep and the next meal had come with dream wine to grant her a hopefully dreamless night of rest.

It worked, only barely. She'd be granted a few hours of rest before her dreams turned to fire and ash. When she was awake she found herself trying to occupy her mind. She found a small and dusty book in a drawer and read it over and over. She counted the flowers upon the bedding, finding seventy-one flowers decorating it before she counted all other items in the room.

Her mind would still find any second of emptiness to fill with her grief.

She was nibbling slowly at a piece of bread, tearing bits off as small as she could, when a man entered her room.

Another Kingsguard, she noted. They wore gilded armor and cloaks of white, and looked different than the common guards who often stood outside her door and let in the handmaid.

"My lady," the man gave a slight bow, "your presence is requested in the Great Hall." He was kind looking, his blue eyes gazing at her with a large amount of sympathy. He was older than the other who'd brought her to the room. "I'll leave you to dress, but I would suggest you go quickly, my lady."  
Alys simply nodded, she hadn't spoken since the first day, she wasn't entirely sure a voice could come out if she tried. Still she moved towards the wardrobe and pulled the first dress her hand came upon. The handmaid who had tended her these last few days had filled it, spare dresses that have no home. They fit well enough, the one Alys slid on only a bit loose around the waist.

She opens her door slowly, and is met with the older knight. He was likely near her father's age she realized. A thought she quickly shoved from her mind and instead focused upon placing the old knight with a name. Not a week ago she would have been able to place the man, looking at him and perhaps a few words spoken she could state his name and perhaps the deed that got him knighted.

But now her knowledge of history and the houses left her, she could hardly even recall all the names of who served in the Kingsguard currently. She knew Ser Arthur Dayne, but that was because she'd met his sister at Harrenhal. Another memory best left from her mind.

She keeps quiet, and the knight is kind enough to grant her a silent walk to the hall. Once she's given up in her quest to recall his name she studies the Red Keep as they walk through.

She admires the decorations upon the halls and whenever they pass a window she looks out at the city she'd once imagined visiting. Giddy and lightheartedly whispering to her sister under the covers of their bed, all before marriage and death had been a part of their lives.

They go outside here and there, passing over bridges to get to other parts of the castle and she breathed a deep breath of clear air, she could almost catch the scent of the Blackwater bay, and she turned to try to catch a glance.

"There," the knight stops, she glances at him quickly worried she's overstepped, but notices he's pointing away from her, "that's the Blackwater that way." She follows his direction and spots it. It's a pretty image, she thinks, the sun is reflecting off the water in an almost mesmerizing way. And all those ships. She looks to them with fascination in her, did her father come by ship? Or did he ride south like they had? If he sailed would his ship still be there, a northern ship surrounded by southern sails.

"Thank you," she manages once they continue.

He simply nods his head in reply and they continue on.

She looks at him once more. Barristan Selmy, she decides on finally. Barristan the Bold as he could be called. He fit the tales she'd heard well enough.

She needed to be bold now, she thinks, as they walk towards the Great Hall. Bold like Barristan is said to be. Bold like Lyanna. Bold like Brandon.

* * *

It was the kings Hand that she met in the Great Hall. The chain of the hand hanging in a heavy way around his neck. He greeted her kindly enough, though she watched him warily. How could she not? He was the kings hand, he should have been able to stop what happened to her father and brother. Advised Aerys against burning them.

She stands at the base of the throne, looking up at Owen Merryweather where he stands upon the dais. He doesn't sit upon the throne, but she can understand that enough, the reason the King was not here currently was due to a cut upon one of its many blades. It was a frightfully sharp thing, and far more foreboding in person she.

Others are in the throne room, the lords and ladies who stay at court, castle guards and a few of the Kingsguard as well. She doesn't look too closely at anyone here. Keeping her attention instead to the man who would tell her fate.

"My Lady," Merryweather looks down at her, he looks tense, his face wrinkled perpetually and redness on his neck. "Your father and brother have been declared traitors to King Aerys and the Seven Kingdoms after asserting a threat against the crown prince. Your brother Eddard, and the Storm Lord Robert Baratheon have also been declared traitors to the crown by his grace. Lord Arryn has been informed of their treacherous plans and will deal with them as is expected of a loyal vassal."

_Ned's done nothing. _She thinks, _does he even know of any of this yet? Of Lyanna, of Father and Brandon? Of me? _But she holds her tongue, what could she say? If she speaks against this claim she'll be likely to burn, her ashes to mix with the others burnt before her, to mix with father and Brandon. So she is quiet as he informs her of her status here at court.

"A ward of the crown," He states, "and hostage." He adds hastily before continuing. "You will be kept here at court, watched and guarded by a member of the Kingsguard so that the north with will remain loyal to the crown." So that Benjen will be a loyal lord of the north, lord of Winterfell once Ned is dead. Kept in obedience with the threat of his last family dying.

As she is given leave from Merryweather to be escorted back to the Maidenvault she turns her thoughts to Ned. He is Lord of Winterfell now. He is Lord Stark, with father and Brandon both gone. But he's in the Vale, far from home and far from her. She didn't know the Vale well, only that it prided itself on its honor. Would Jon Arryn turn on her brother? Ned had told her he was like a second father to him. But the Vale was known to for chivalry and honor, would their loyalty to the crown be enough to make Jon Arryn forsake Ned?

_Please, _she prays silently as Barristan walks her back to her room. _Please Gods, old and new, protect my brother._


	2. Doomed

**_Eddard_**

The news arrived in the Vale all at once. News of Lyanna's disappearance near Harrenhal arrived by one raven, and by another was the news of Lord Rickard and Brandon Starks deaths. Ethan Glover had sent the news to Eddard, while the Kings hand had sent another letter to Jon Arryn demanding Robert Baratheon and Eddard's heads.

Ned had read his letters in his room in the Eyrie, his breath and pulse quickening with each word as he reread over and over.

_Lyanna is missing, Rhaegar and his men had been in the area at the time. Brandon had assumed the prince had run off with her. _

It wasn't an impossible assumption. The tourney at Harrenhal had left Brandon with a bitter taste towards the crown prince. Harrenhal had left them all nervous over why he'd crowned Lyanna over his own wife.

His wife who was at Dragonstone with their recently born son. What business would the prince have in the Riverlands when he should be with his sickly wife and his newborn son.

And it was Brandon, Brandon with the wolf's blood. He'd nearly challenged Rhaegar at the tourney after what happened, so Ned couldn't see any other route his elder brother would take but to journey to King Landing and challenge the prince.

_Your brother and father are dead. Along with Brandon's whole party, save Alys and I. I am unsure what will happen with us or why we weren't burnt with the rest._

Ethan Glover's words hung on Ned heavier than the previous letter. He read them over and over, his father and brother were dead. How could that happen?

His father had been in Winterfell only a couple months back. And Brandon, Brandon was to be married soon. Ned hadn't been planning to attend the wedding, he was staying in the Eyrie longer still with Robert and Jon Arryn. But his sisters had departed only a month ago to head towards Riverrun for the wedding. Brandon had been staying in the Riverlands since Harrenhal, to know his future wife better before they wed.

But now they wouldn't ever wed.

Brandon was dead.

"You're the Lord of Winterfell now." Robert told him when he'd heard the news, his voice, usually loud and full of boisterous energy, was a quiet, somber thing. He was staring hard at the first letter, the one that had told them of Lyanna's disappearance. When he'd read it his face had tightened into a harsh one, and his hands were tight upon the paper to the point of almost tearing it. Robert had taken the incident at Harrenhal as an insult, though he'd at first laughed it off he turned far more somber as he watched the prince and Lyanna. This was a far harsher insult towards him, and Robert had always been far louder man in his thoughts than Ned.

Jon Arryn found the two then, sat in the garden of the Eyrie, with his own letter in hand. This one with the seal of Owen Merryweather, hand to Aerys Targaryen.

"He's demanded your heads." He stated, a simple statement, "he expects me to deliver them to prove my loyalties." He handed the letter to Ned, letting him read the contents himself. "My heir had died as well," Ned nodded, Elbert Arryn had been traveling with Brandon when they would've gone south.

"What will you do?" Ned questions. "He can't be allowed to demand our heads when we've just heard of this all."

"He should not have been allowed to kill any those he'd killed." Robert barks, "your brother and his party, your father, nor us." When he looked at Robert, Ned saw the resolution within his eyes. "Rhaegar did the wrong, not your brother or his men. Yet there is no mention of Rhaegar actions or what the King plans to do about them in this letter."

"I will not send him your heads," Jon states.

"It'll be an act of defiance," Ned states, looking once more at the letter from Lord Merryweather. "We'll be acting against the crown."

"The crown has abused its powers over us," Robert stood, pacing the length of the garden, stopping before the weeping woman statue that stands in the middle. "First with the offenses Rhaegar has given you Starks and I, at Harrenhal and now, stealing your sister. _My_ betrothed." Ned watches his friend closely, a stranger who became a brother over all these years in the Vale. It hadn't been hard to tell how infatuated Robert had become with Lyanna. Ned himself has been looking towards the day Robert would be truly be his brother. "Now with the deaths of your father and brother, the deaths of many lord's sons for no reason. Demanding our heads for no reason?"

"The actions he has taken in these moments only strengthen the rumors that have spread of a possible madness that has taken King Aerys." Robert looks back at Ned and Jon then, "if he can kill any lord he likes, if his son can steal any girl he likes, how are any of us safe under his rule?"

And so it began. Jon sent his ravens out to the Lords of the Vale, calling his banners to the Eyrie while Ned and Robert prepared themselves to travel to their own homes and call their own banners.

As they waited for the knights of the Vale to answer the call to arms, Ned sat looking at the letters once more with Jon. "Both of my sisters are held."

"They are," Jon confirmed his eyes softening towards the man who had become a son. "Alys is safe enough for now, Owen Merryweather has stated his intentions to have her held as hostage, perhaps to even marry her to the boy Viserys as a way to keep your brother at peace."

"But how safe are we in that assurance," Ned looks to the elder man, "if the king is truly mad he could turn upon my sister the moment he hears of our rebellion."

Jon had no answer for that. But they both knew it mattered not what the answer was, no matter how worried Ned was towards Alys. If the king is mad, she would be no safer with him dead and Benjen a loyal lord to Aerys than she would be with Ned in rebellion against the crown.

**_Jaime_**

Jaime found the Stark girl particularly boring to guard. She kept to herself, though it was still unsure whether she'd have free range of the Keep, and hardly spoke to anyone but the handmaid Merryweather had assigned her. Truth be told he hardly saw the girl. He never entered her rooms, there was no need as he was only assigned to stand outside her door. So the few times he spotted her was when the handmaid entered or left the room.

It was likely better he didn't find her particularly interesting. Likely better than he didn't spend his turn guarding her room talking with her. It was well and truly decided amongst those at Kings Landing who had been here long enough to get to see the truth of the King that the Stark girl was doomed, eventually they would be watching her burn in the Great Hall and they'll all be gladder to not have gotten to know the poor girl.

That was why no one called upon her or visited her rooms. No one had told the lords and ladies of the court that they had to shun her, it was just the easiest course of action.

Jaime shifted against the wall, he was particularly bored today. No letters had come from Tyrion or Cersei. Likely due to the rising noise of discontent after the deaths of Stark men, and the still missing prince with his own Stark girl. Not to mention that Jaime had overheard some lord or lady speaking about some whispers of rebellion in the Vale. Not long after had he heard from Ser Barristan as they were trading posts that Jon Arryn had refused the kings letter and was raising his banners.

It seemed all too likely to fail. The knights of the Vale were a mighty force, but they reigned best in their own mountainous domain. Jon Arryn himself was an older, more seasoned warrior, he'd likely prove a good leader of his forces and a formidable foe. But Robert Baratheon was less known of, though Jaime recalls him being a boisterous drunk at the feast at Harrenhal. Then there was Ned Stark, now Lord Paramount of the north and having just lost four members of his house. He'd be playing a dangerous game if he raises his banners, with Alys Stark in the grips of the king and Lyanna Stark missing with the Prince.

Then again, what else can he do? His head was demanded, and however honorable the Starks and Northmen are known to be self-preservation tends to win out in that race. So the only true option would be to fight back.

Though, that does not make the rebellion any less doomed or stupid.

Jaime begins to wonder what his father thinks of all this, will he ride east to the Vale to crush the upstarts to show faith to the king. Or is he still sitting in his bitterness over Jaime's joining to the Kingsguard?  
He isn't given much time to consider when the door beside him creaks open gently. The Stark girl pokes her head out, glancing around before her eyes land upon him. The darkness of them is slightly disquieting compared to the paleness of her skin, mixed with the slight darkness beneath her grey eyes she is given a sort of haunted look that is both beautiful and unnerving to Jaime, though he maintains himself as he looks at her a brow raised in question for what it is she is thinking to do.

She presses her lips together a few moments as though she is reconsidering just silently slinking back into her room, leaving whatever she was about to do or ask for a distant thought. But instead she seems too sturdy herself and step more fully out of her room. "I was wondering if I could go to the godswood." Her voice is a gentle, singsong thing. Quiet and collected.

Jaime considers, he still isn't certain whether she is given roam of the castle. Merryweather hasn't decreed one way or the other. Besides, it would be cruel of him to deny her prayers and gods. So he shrugs, "very well." And motions for her to follow him to the Red Keeps godswood as he's quite certain she hasn't a clue where to go.

* * *

Jaime had never had much use for the godswood of the Red Keep, not one for praying in general but especially to the old gods who most in the south looked at as lesser than the Seven. But the Godswood still held an eerie sort of spirit as they walked amongst the spattering of elm, alder and black cottonwood trees along the trail that would lead them to the heart.

Jaime had never actually wandered this far into the Godswood, Aerys certainly didn't spend much of his time in this _holy_ space and thus what point would Jaime have to venture here if he wasn't guarding someone who wished to see it.

As such he'd never seen the great oak tree that stood at the heart of this acre of land, its thick trunk and stretching limbs covered in vines and smokeberrys, the ground surrounding the tree held carefully tended dragon's breath flowers, that seem to currently be in bloom. It was an enchanting sight to be sure, Jaime thought, befitting of its holy purpose with the gods. But as he looked over at the quiet Stark girl he found an odd look of disappointment cross over her face before she shook it away and went to kneel before the tree.

"Not as big as the heart trees in the North?" he says, he isn't sure why he says anything. He has no need to say anything. He should just pick a spot where he can keep his eye on her and think of something else, perhaps Cersei and whether she ever ventured into the Godswood when she and father lived here. But no, he speaks and she looks up at him seemingly as puzzled at him for that.

"It's bigger than the one I saw at Riverrun, the one at Harrenhal didn't spread out as much, but was about the same size," she speaks the words carefully, as though she's struggling to recall them. She then looks back at the tree, and studies it for long enough that Jaime starts to think that was all she had to say and she'd simply gone back to praying.

But then she speaks again, a soft melancholy sound to her voice "the heart tree at Winterfell is quite a bit smaller than this I think," she purses her lips before standing and stepping back to look at more of the tree itself. "But perhaps I'm shrinking it in my head, I haven't been back in Winterfell since before the tourney at Harrenhal." She glances at him then, "why do you ask?"

Cersei had always told him northerners were cold folk, in body, soul, and heart. And as Alys Starks dark eyes studied him the best word to describe it _was_ cold. But they weren't harsh. It was a soft cold, like a loose powdery snow.

So he answers. "You looked quite disappointed with our humble southern Godswood is all." He gives a shrug of his shoulders and glances at the tree again, it was quite a large tree in truth.

"I was," she blushes, a pink redness flooding her cheeks as though that were going to offend him. "But only because I had expected a weirwood not oak. I suppose I shouldn't have, I know most of the weirwoods in the south have been cut down." She fiddles a bit with the edge of her sleeves, she has yet to adopt the southern fashion completely and wears much more modest and simple clothes than most ladies at court.

"Will your Gods ignore you even more without an old tree to pray at?" He states, again without thought. It's only after that he realizes how harsh his words might sound, when she looks at him with hurt in her dark eyes and a gentle sigh escaping her lips.

She turns away from him, returning to kneel before the tree. Before she closes her eyes and clasps her hands to pray she says. "Perhaps they can't help me this far south, but perhaps they can still hear my prayers for my family."

* * *

Alys Stark frequents the Godswood often after that first encounter. Jaime later learns that it's because he and Selmy were the only ones to agree to accompany her there. Though that doesn't quite mean that he's spoken any further with her than that first conversation by the heart tree. No, he still holds himself against that action.

As do others, occasionally they would pass some lord or lady as they made their way through the keep or the Gods Wood. Whomever they passed would glance away from the two of them and if they were currently in conversation it would halt until they'd passed. It did actually start to make Jaime feel sorry for the Stark girl, who seemed particularly isolated as news of Jon Arryn's defiance by raising his banners spread throughout the keep. Alys had heard of it from her handmaid he imagines, as that was the one person who didn't shy from speaking with her. Though she eventually asks Jaime if it was true.

"Do you not trust your handmaid?" He jests as they pass through the first arches of elder trees.

"I do, at least in that sense," she sighs an almost annoyed breath and looks at Jaime again, "but I still would like to know what's happening, all that's happening. I fear that Aleah doesn't tell me the whole truth." He watches as she leans over to pick a handful of berries they pass by; she plops one into her mouth before adding, "She means well, she fears that if I know too much I'll get in some kind of trouble."

Jaime gives a shrug, "nothing else has occurred, the news of Arryn calling his banners came from Marq Grafton or some Vale lord like that."  
He leaves their conversation at that choosing silence over speaking as they continue through the wood.

It's not hard to notice the effect her isolation has upon the Stark. Clear disappointment passes over her haunting grey eyes whenever he gives short answers to any of her attempts at conversation. _She'll give that up soon enough,_ he hopes, for her own sanity she needs to realize that there are no true friends in Kingslanding, especially for a hostage girl doomed for the fire.

She does start to withdraw into herself, she stops attempting conversation with him after another week of failed attempts. Instead only speaking with him if she has a question or requires something.

She also doesn't visit the Godswood again for some time.

* * *

The day Alys returns to the Godswood is a rare overcast day, wind howling around the towers of the keep and sending the leaves of the wood swirling in an almost enchanting way when they walk along the path. Jaime looks worriedly towards the sky; he hopes it doesn't rain. He would rather it didn't, the Red Keep didn't need something more to sour the mood of the court.

Though it does grant them the courtesy of not passing by any others on their way through the keep, most have chosen to stay in for the day. To mull over the worrisome news from the Vale, Jaime is sure.

Word came the night before of a battle at Gulltown, which had been held by Marq Grafton who had previously proclaimed his loyalty to Aerys and was now dead upon his own land. If Jaime had heard correctly it was the Stormlord Robert Baratheon who'd taken the credit for slaying the man. Regardless, Jon Arryn had ridden down with his men from the Eyrie and taken Gulltown easily enough it seems.

Many lords and ladies of the court are now worrying that this means a true rebellion is brewing. Though plenty still say it won't last long, likely a bit of ruffled feathers of those Vale Knights and the bitter Stormlord Robert. They'll be dealt with swiftly enough and peace will return.

As peaceful as a kingdom where the king burns those he believes traitorous can ever be.

He imagines this is why Alys had asked to go to the Godswood today, her handmaid had likely informed her of the news and she wished to pray for her brothers' safety and health after that battle. Or whatever it is she prays for. He wonders absently as they walk if the handmaid had informed Alys of the fact that in all the news heard of the battle, Ned Stark was never mentioned to have been there.

She is particularly somber, so perhaps she had heard that much. It could mean anything, though he doesn't imagine it means he is dead. If Jon Arryn had taken the loss of one of the two boys he refused to turn over it would have been one of the key topics talked about. Especially considering the kings' current hostage.

To Jaime's surprise she doesn't ask of the battle as they walk, he figured she would. To double check what her handmaid had told her at the least. But she is silent as they move along the path, her hands folded delicately in front of her and her eyes looking only along the path. Jaime can't help but sneak a few looks at her as they walk, the expectation that she'll speak has put him on an edge that he can't describe entirely. He awaits the sound of her voice, but she holds it away from him, leaving him annoyed that he's waiting for her words when usually he wishes she didn't put him in the rude position of ignoring her.

By the time they reach the heart tree Jaime is near bristling with the anticipation of her words that he nearly speaks himself. Though for once he stops himself, and takes his silent position as she kneels before the tree in silent prayer.

Jaime has just gotten through his anticipation of her voice when she finally does speak. He was fiddling with a leaf that had stuck itself to his armor, thinking of a time when Cersei and him were children that they collected all the leaves that had fallen at the Godswood of Casterly rock into a large pile and played in it until her Septa had come scolding her for acting so unladylike with tangled golden hair ornamented with red leafs.

Her voice actually startles him, he glances up immediately, the leaf he'd been studying dropping from his hand and blowing away in the still swirling wind. "What?" he asks, having missed the words her voice had made.

"Do you ever pray?" She asks again, her voice softer than the wind, she's standing now. Red and brown and green leaves stuck to her dress where she'd knelt upon them.

It was a curious question to ask a knight, let alone a knight of the Kingsguard. They were considered 'holy' by default, they swore their oaths before god as well as man. But Jaime himself had never considered himself particularly religious before. "Not as much as the septs would like me to," he jests, "when I was younger we'd had a Septa who was particularly strict upon us praying before we slept, and even some times before we ate." His father had tired of that Septa particularly quickly and replaced her with a still holy, but significantly less holy, one.

"I pray more now than I ever did before I think," she looks back towards the tree, and a particularly strong gust of wind sends her hair out in what some might call a particularly mesmerizing way. Jaime does notice its enchantment, but he also notices the bits of leaf that have woven their way into the dark brown strands, making it almost look like its own branchy dark tree. "I prayed before, in Winterfell and such. But never so frequently. Though I always did like sitting by the weirwood, I would spend hours sitting beneath with my feet in the pool of water before it. My mother always told me I'd freeze my feet off if I kept them there too long."

"Well it seems your feet are still intact," he says, "though I suppose I have no reference for the state of your toes. I hear those fall off first."

She smiles at that, a soft glowing sort of smile. Still sad, he notes, though he has begun to notice that she always holds a sort of somber look to her. Funnily enough some had said the same about the Prince, that he has a look that is laced with doom and melancholy. Though Jaime believes he was born that way while he can easily imagine a much lighter and happier look permanently left upon Alys's face.

He sighs, "we should return." He glances momentarily towards the sky, "rain always makes my hair look more of straw than Lannister gold." He jests, earning another small smile that he curses himself for earning and enjoying.

_She's doomed,_ he reminds himself as they walk and she tries to continue a conversation. But now he manages to hold himself to short words and eventual silence. _As doomed as her father and brother were._ He keeps reminding himself as they walk through the keep, as the smile he'd earned disappears and is replaced with a sad look of disappointment. The smile is lost even more as they pass by a chattering group of ladies, all her age, and all who stop their chattering when they spot them. Only to resume once past and around a corner.

It creates a tense and despaired air around the Stark girl. Her eyes downcast and her mouth set in a thin line. She pulls at her sleeves and as they near the room she's near torn the edges to pieces.

He opens the door for her and watches her enter the empty room. She moves towards the bed slowly and he is about to shut the door and return to his post when she speaks again, filling his ears with her voice. "Jaime." She states, and he is brought to the thought that he can't recall her saying his name before. "Would you stay in here, perhaps talk with me some more? The days are boring and long." Her voice is hesitant, nerves shaking her voice and making her quieter than usual.

_Damn_, Jaime curses. He sighs and looks to her, "I'm afraid I'm here only to guard you. Not to converse and eat cakes."  
He's surprised to see a flash of anger cross her face, her jaw tightening and her already dark eyes seemingly darkening. "I wouldn't be asking you to converse and eat cakes if anyone spoke to me. They act as though I carry a plague." She balls her fists and stares resolutely at him, her grey eyes bearing into his green. "You barely talk to me, Barristan slightly more but its only courtesies." She starts towards him and he starts to wonder if she plans to strike at him, "the only person who deigns to hold a conversation with me is Aleah, and she has no choice in that matter." She's only a foot in front of him now, her head now tilted up to look at him directly. "I'm tired of it, this silence." She doesn't move to hit him, though he isn't sure that she ever would. No, instead it appears as though she might cry instead.

But she holds her tears. "I'm a hostage, I know that. But why must I be spurned like this? I'm trapped in this windowless room unless I'm lucky enough to have a guard willing to take me to the Godswood. And that's the only place I'm allowed. A Godswood for Gods that might not even be able to hear me." Jaime wonders what he could say. _Nothing, I can say nothing because there is nothing to say. I can't change what her life and situation is._

"Jaime, talk to me." She states the words forcefully and her eyes once again make him think of cold. But now it was a frozen lake, hard and solid and deadly if you step in the wrong spot.

"There is nothing to say," he tells her, perhaps she needs honesty. Someone to tell her how this truly is for her, what her fate has in store. He recalls faintly when she'd asked him what Aerys planned for her, how he'd told he hadn't a clue. Perhaps that had been the wrong choice, perhaps she would be better off knowing that her fate was that of her brother and father.

"Just tell me why, why you or anyone else won't speak to me." She is pleading, and the ice beginning to crack, "why those we pass on our way to the Godswood go quiet and look away, am I so cursed and tragic to treat with?"

"Yes," he says finally, with a dejected sigh. He wished this was over, he wanted to return to the other side of the door, to his silent guard and his thoughts of Cersei and Tyrion and Casterly Rock. But instead he continues, "yes you are quite tragic and cursed, doomed perhaps the better word. No one speaks with you because they fear they'll like you, that they'll feel more sympathy for you once they get to know you." She takes a step back as his own voice raises, "they don't want the trouble of having to mourn you when the King decides he needs someone to burn, and look there's the Stark girl she's a good enough choice. I imagine she'll scream like her father, or perhaps show some struggle and fight like her brother." She stumbles back at that, as though he'd shoved her away. "So, can you truly blame us all for protecting ourselves from someone so doomed? Because you've just arrived here, we've seen this all before. Your father and his men weren't the first to burn in that hall and I doubt they will be the last. So accept that you're alone here. You are not going to find any friends here in Kings Landing."

She has stumbled back into the poster at the foot of her bed, her hand gripping it and the other tight against her chest. She looks at him with more hurt than he'd imagined, the frozen lake cracked and weeping. Then she hardens herself, tears still trailing down her cheeks, but she stares him down, her eyes frighteningly black. "Get out." The words are quiet, "get out." Louder and sharper. He hasn't moved when she grabs something near her, a book he thinks and throws it. "Get out, get out of here, get OUT!" she's shouting the words, the book missing him and falling into the hall through the still open door.

As he looks at her he feels a wave of guilt and remorse hit him. He'd been too harsh. He looks at her as she tosses the pillows from her bed to try and push him out. She's cracking still, tears falling, and sobs starting to overtake her words.

"As you wish." He finally adds before retreating to the hall and shutting the door behind him.

He stands very still for a few moments. Listening he expect to perhaps hear more things hit the door. But it's deathly quiet for a moment before the sound of cries are loud enough for him to hear. He near returns to her room, a part of him pulling him to comfort her. But he pushes it away. It would do her no good, it was harsh but it was true what he said.

But perhaps that doesn't mean he had to say it.

**_Benjen_**

Ned arrived only a week after news of Gulltown had reached Winterfell. Looking as exhausted and grief-stricken as Benjen felt. The two brothers hugged each other tightly the moment Ned dropped down from his horse. The last several weeks had been one bad thing after another for Benjen. Starting with the letter telling of Lyanna's disappearance. Alys had sent it to him while riding south with Brandon. Benjen had thought his elder brother an idiot for riding south so recklessly, with Alys in tow nonetheless. But Brandon was someone of action first, and so it made sense in that light.

Then the letter telling of their deaths, it hadn't said a thing about Alys and that had left Benjen a mess. Lyanna was an unknown, still missing with Rhaegar, and then Alys had become just as unknown. Maester Walys had nearly taken over the day to day running of Winterfell, though if Benjen was honest with himself Walys had already been running it after his father headed south for Riverrun. "There must be a Stark in Winterfell," he'd told him when Benjen had begged to accompany him for the Wedding, he'd wanted to see his sisters, and Brandon when he was tamed by the fish girl. But his father wouldn't have it, and thus Benjen was left with letters that would come and deliver him grief after grief.

"Any news of Alys?" Benjen asks as the pair of them walk into the Great Hall, "I haven't heard a thing of her since before the news of father and Brandon came."

Ned nods, a solemn look to his face. "Hostage in Kings Landing. Alive, as far as we know for now. Though the king is said to be mad, and if I've heard correctly Jon Arryn and Robert have already won a small battle at Gulltown." Maester Walys meets them as they head towards their fathers solar. _Ned's now, _Benjen thinks suddenly,_ how odd._

"We must send out the ravens, call the banners. Tell them all to meet at Moat Cailin within a fortnight." Walys nods along as Ned speaks and as they enter the solar, the maester pulls out an old large map of Westeros and Ned glances at it. "I want to march south as soon as we can, the more time we waste…"

_The more likely Alys or Lyanna end up dead_. Though they hadn't heard anything of Lyanna since her disappearance. "Lyanna?"  
"No news there," Ned clenches his jaw and Benjen can see the worry etched into his face. He looked older than he had only a year ago, though according to Nan so did Benjen since the news started coming. "Though Wyman Manderly told me that Prince Rhaegar hasn't been spotted since her disappearance either, despite the fact that his father likely called him back to Kings Landing."

"The Manderly's are here already?" Benjen had seen their banners within the group that Ned rode with.

"Yes," Ned lets out a breath and looks harder upon the map as though something is missing from it. _He's searching for Lyanna on the old thing._ Benjen wonders where his sister has run. "Wyman sent his forces ahead to Moat Cailin when we departed from White Harbor, though he's also preparing ships and men upon them in case they are needed."

"So it's war we're going to…" Benjen feels a nervous itch inside his chest. War, he's not even yet 16 and war has come upon them. _Not just any war, rebellion against the crown._

"Aye," Ned turns away from the map and glances around the room. Benjen can see the grief hit his eyes, he's realized it's his. This space that was fathers, was meant for Brandon. Now it's his. _Lord Stark_.

"Okay," Benjen nods, straightening himself and looking towards his brother. "We'll get them back Ned."

Ned is silent at that. He'd always been the quietest of them, the melancholiest. Now he seemed to fall into that coldness more than he'd ever before.

"When do we leave?" Benjen asks.

"I plan to depart the day after next," He looks back at Benjen, dark eyes hard as stone, worry etched into his lips. "You'll be staying here Ben, nothing's changed in that regard. There has to be a Stark in Winterfell."

"No," Benjen shakes his head and moves towards his brother, "I won't stay here twiddling my thumbs waiting to hear if I've lost another family member. I want to go south with you, to get Lyanna, to get Alys." He sharpens himself against his brothers' stare, they aren't so far in age, only four years between them. "I'm going south with you; I'm fighting beside you."

"You won't, you'll stay here and keep watch of Winterfell and the north." Ned says, "I won't have you fight me on this Benjen, this is how it must be."

"You stay then," Benjen snaps, "be the Lord of Winterfell and the Stark in the North and I'll ride south."

"Benjen," his voice is exhausted, and Benjen wonders faintly how long he's been awake. "please don't fight with me, I need you here. To be the Stark in Winterfell, and… and so I know one of my siblings is still safe." His eyes have softened, and Benjen is reminded of Alys, the two had the same dark eyes. "So please, please just do as I say. I promise you I'll send news the moment I have it of either of our sisters."

Benjen stares his brother down, and notices the cracks in the silent façade. Beneath his eyes are dark, his jaw seemingly stuck tense, and he stands leant slightly against the windowsill. _Did he ride straight from White Harbor? To get here from the Vale so quick he must have barely slept._ Benjen let out a sigh and nodded with defeat. "Go sleep brother, Walys and I can manage the ravens and Winterfell till you're rested." When Ned starts to object Benjen stops him with his own cold stare, "No, sleep, eat, rest. Take a damned bath cause you stink. You'll not be rescuing our sisters if you can't keep your own eyes open."


	3. The Weight of Guilt

**_Jaime_**

Jaime wasn't quite sure which was more a depressing duty to be given, guarding the queen's chambers at night, or Alys Starks during the day.

Perhaps it depends upon the day. At least when it comes to Queen Rhaella. Those he'd always hated, especially when there had been a burning. It did nothing but make him feel completely and utterly useless, cemented when the harsh reality of the fact that his vows to protect the weak were overruled by his vows to protect the king. Keep the king's secrets. And to never judge the king, that wasn't for us.

Jaime vaguely recalls hearing somewhere that only the gods above can judge a King.

But those evenings guarding the queen had gotten easier as he found himself quite proficient with losing himself within himself. Recalling sweet memories of his lovely sister, the taste of her lips, the feel of her body against his. The sweet smell of her hair. How he missed his sister. Sometimes falling into those memories only made him miss her more, so he'd move to memories of Tyrion, or simply memories of Casterly Rock growing up.

Sometimes he tried to recall everything he could about his mother. But he always found himself irritated by how off everything he remembered felt.

Guarding the queen was depressing.

So was Alys Stark, though that had also become exceedingly boring.

Since their outbursts at each other, something that he continues to tell himself was justified no matter how much guilt he feels regarding it, she's quieted herself immensely. The trips to the Godswood have stopped, even with Selmy, Jaime learned. And from the bits he's spotted whenever the handmaid goes in or out, Alys spends her days curled upon her bed (which only sends a sharper stab of guilt in Jaime's gut that he has to rationalize away) or sat by the hearth, a book open half way that she never seems to finish.

_I have no reason to feel guilt_, he tells himself, _it was only the truth, father always told the truth regardless of how painful it might be to someone._

Jaime recalls clearly when his father had told him that mother had passed. Earlier that day, when she was still in labor and had yet to pass, the entire castle had been filled with giddy excitement. Excitement that turned sharply to grief with her last breath. Jaime would have expected his father to be awash with it, tears and red faced. But the Lion of the Rock kept face whenever he might be seen. Even when he sat Cersei and Jaime down he was stone faced, laying the words of their mothers' death out fact for fact. The only emotion in his fathers' voice that he could recall was the distaste when he had spoken of Tyrion, who hadn't even been named yet as he was expected to follow their mother.

His father had been just as blunt when he left with Cersei to Kings Landing. As well as when he sent Jaime to foster at Crakehall. He never sugarcoated his words, never lied to spare anyone's feelings not even that of his children.

Besides, both Tywin and Cersei would likely tell Jaime he has no reason to feel for the wolf girl. No reason to comfort her and be kind to her when it would get him little.

But still, Jaime has issue shaking the looming feeling of guilt over him as the weeks' pass.

* * *

Jaime is standing guard outside her door one morning when the handmaid says her first words to him. "What did you say to her?" the girls tone is harshly accusing, her eyes light blue daggers that seem to threaten to slit his throat at the wrong word.

"Why would you presume I've ever said a thing to her? I'm a guard not a confidant handmaid." He smirks down at the girl; why should he answer her anything. Besides, he'd said nothing that didn't need to be said.

The girl isn't deterred though, narrowing her eyes and stepping closer. "She's not said a word since the last trip you two took to the Godswood, I imagine you had something to do with that. So I'll ask again, what did you say to her?"

"Nothing but the truth that everyone is so remorse to say," Jaime waves the girl off and turns away, hoping to be done with the conversation. He doesn't need a handmaid to add more guilt upon him.

But the handmaid stays in her spot staring him down. He returns her stare with one of utter indifference, "do you not have some chamber pot to change, or perhaps a fire to tend to? Hair to brush?"

"You feel no remorse? For making her situation worse than it already is? She doesn't deserve to be miserable and feel doomed." The girl sighs an exasperated noise, "I'm going to get her to the Godswood today, whether she likes it or not I'll not have her rot away in that windowless room. If you could perhaps be kind, and not speak if you have nothing nice to say."

And with that she is gone through the door, leaving Jaime alone within the hall with a new weight of guilt threatening to fall upon him.

**_Alys_**

Alys lies watching a small spider crawl upon the wall, her eyes following it as it returns to the webs it had created in the corner. Aleah enters just as it begins to spin new strings to its home.

"Up," her handmaid says, her voice firm and authoritative. "You've wallowed long enough, your skin was already deathly pale when you arrived, and the day is sunny and warm. So we'll visit the Godswood."

Alys simply sighs and turns over in her bed. But within seconds her sheets are ripped from her form and Aleah is stood with them rolled in her arms, "up." The fair haired girl says again, her face stern and pushing.

"I don't want to go to the Godswood," Alys relents, her voice sounds odd to her, she's said little to nothing these last few weeks and it's become a stranger to her. Throaty and harsh. Utterly unfamiliar. "I'd rather stay in here."

"Why is that? I personally would be screaming if I were stuck in this room as long as you've sequestered yourself within." Aleah sets the sheets upon the bed and moves to the wardrobe. As she awaits an answer she searches through the dresses before settling on a dark blue one with purple detailing. "Come on," she motions Alys over. "Please don't make me pull you from that bed and force this dress onto you like a child."

Alys sighs once more and gives in to this much. _She can dress me but that doesn't mean I must go anywhere._ "Now, why'd you rather stay in this room, honestly please?"

"There is no point," Alys looks at her feet rather than the reflection in the mirror, standing still as she can while Aleah dresses her. "I know what people think, Aleah. I have no place here at court but as a hostage. Might as well stay within my cell." She sucks in a breath as Aleah begins lacing her dress behind her, "I don't even know that I'm allowed anywhere but this cell." She glances up when Aleah finishes the laces and walks around her.

"That's not true, and if it is perhaps it can be fixed." Her eyes are gentle towards Alys, though since Jaime's words she's wondered why Aleah has tried so hard to be kind, talked to her, spent time with her.

_She feels sorry, and she has to talk to me as my hand maid, _Alys tells herself as she was sat at the vanity and Aleah began to fix her mess of hair. _She's likely been told to keep an eye on me as well. To be sure that I won't try anything before they decide to get rid of me. To be sure I don't try to run or… or end myself._

"Stop with that worrying face," Aleah says with annoyance to her voice, "I'm quite tired of it." Her hands have stopped their braiding and she's glaring in a strangely caring way through the mirror at Alys.

"You sound like my mother." Alys says without thought. She pauses, chewing her lip as Aleah gives a curious look. "She would always get on me or my brother Ned about looking so down all the time. The others never had that problem. Brandon and Lyanna were always laughing and running about, never worrying over anything. And Benjen, well Benjens lips are in a permanent smile. Though he was never quite as wild as the other two." She doesn't know why she says this, it hurts a bit thinking of family. But it just comes spilling from her lips and Aleah gives her a smile that doesn't deter her from saying it.

"Your mother is right," Aleah states. She finishes the braids in Alys' hair and smiles gently at their reflections before a concerned look falls on her face. "I know that Ser Jaime said something to you, what exactly I'm unsure but I can guess it had to do with the fact that many at court feel you'll like to not last long before something happens with you." She avoids the words, _before Aerys burns me like my father._ "But that doesn't mean you should simply give up, and wallow in the sadness. You're not dead yet my dear, and if you make it through this you'll think yourself silly for giving up."

"Why?" Alys says after some silence, "if the word is true and my brother is going to war, I'm like to get killed before he reaches me."

"You'd make poor hostage and bargaining piece if they kill you," She informs her, holding a hand to her so they can walk towards the door. "Remember that. The king might not think of it but his hand realized that you are valuable alive, to bargain for peace, or to keep the north in place after."

_After Ned is dead._ Alys shuts her eyes for a moment and sighs, _Please Ned, be smart, be safe._ "Very well, I can't promise I'll be happy. But I'll try to at least not give up completely." _At least not yet._

**_Jaime_**

The Stark girl doesn't look or acknowledge him when she and her handmaid exit the room and start walking in the direction of the Godswood. Jaime simply follows behind like a shiny plated shadow.

_Good,_ he tells himself as he's left unacknowledged. _For the best, no use getting attached. It would be like getting attached to the chicken that you'll be eating come next week._

Though, Alys Stark was quite more interesting and amiable than a chicken. Prettier as well, though that hadn't ever drawn Jaime to girls or chickens. No, he had no real explanation for why he felt a stab of hurt while the two girls chatted away, the handmaid doing most of the chatting. He stays a foot back, left unseen and never even worth sneaking a glance. _It is for the best. Let her hate you, and you ignore her._

Still, he couldn't help but listen the two girls' silly conversations as they wandered the Godswood. The handmaid spoke first of court gossip, this lord and that, or this lady with that knight. Jaime had always found that drivel annoying at best and downright infuriating at the least. Whenever he'd been sat with Cersei as she sat with her own ladies the conversations he'd hear nearly made him wish he could throw himself from the window of the solar. The only comfort he had was the closeness to Cersei, and the fact that after the pair of them would share in their dislike of those gossiping ladies.

Thus, Jaime found himself dipping out of the conversation anytime a lord screwing this other lady came up.

"I've never been any further north than Kings Landing myself," the handmaid says at some point, "tell me of the north if you want?"

Jaime noticed Alys pause and glance towards her feet, a hurt sort of look crossed her face before she let out a gentle sigh. "It's not so cold as people make it out to be, well I mean it is, in fall and winter. But the summers are nice, a sweet warmth to the air and not so cold as winter." The smallest smile pulls at her lips as she thinks on it, "even during summer snows, it's still warm enough to enjoy. Though I'm sure most southerners would still find it colder than they would prefer." She tilts her head inquisitively at the handmaid, "I'm sorry, I've never asked, where are you from?"

"The Reach, my lady." She replies, "near Horn Hill."

"Well I've never been that far south myself," Alys states with a sweet smile and a small glint to her eyes. "Will you tell me of it? I've heard the Reach has the prettiest flowers and the sweetest fruits?"

"Oh they do," The handmaid laughs and Jaime zones back out as she told the Stark girl of her home and knightly father and how she came to service in Kings Landing.

Jaime is nearly lost in his thoughts when a voice calls to him. Startled, he looks away from the tree his eyes had settled upon and towards the voice. Alys looks at him now, though her eyes still hold hurt behind them towards him they also have a question. She tilts her head, and Jaime realizes he'd missed whatever she was asking.

"I'm sorry? I wasn't aware I was here for your conversations." He responds, and she shakes her head and starts to move on. "What was the question?"

She turns, a brow raised and dark eyes skeptical. "What is Casterly Rock like? Since Aleah and I were on the topic of childhood homes." She smirks an almost teasing smile, "you know some northern lords have joked over ale that the Keep of Casterly Rock is made of solid gold. Though others say it is simply painted that color."

"I'm afraid neither," he states, moving to stand at pace with the girls. "Still, it is likely a grander and more expensive looking keep than most in the North." He jests, which receives him the smallest turn up of her lip and a roll of her eyes.

"Perhaps, but glitter and gold only go so far when it comes to surviving winter."

"Oh yes, those are your words are they not? _Winter is Coming_. So foreboding, no wonder you Starks are considered to be serious and dour folk in the south." Her face sours at that, and he begins to wonder if he's poked to hard too soon when she shakes her head and laughs. It's small, and laced with the slight tone of grief, but still a small laugh that gives Jaime a bit of pleasure to have elicited it from her.

_Idiot,_ he thinks, _why did he still talk to her as though she were simply a pretty girl to pass clever conversation with. She's doomed, if you attach yourself it will hurt more._

"You're not entirely wrong," she shrugs and sighs, "my father was rather serious, though out of my siblings my brother Ned and I have been regarded as the glummest." She smiles, "Ned more so than me, he always was so serious. Lyanna was there to keep me from being quite as bad."

_Stop with the conversing and return to simply guarding the girl_, he tells himself. He gives just a simple noise in reply and lets the conversation fall away from them. After a few moments of silent walking, with him slowly loosening his pace so the slight distance returns to them, the handmaid brings up some new conversation and Jaime is relieved of speaking for the rest of their walking about.

* * *

When they return to the Maiden Vault Barristan is awaiting to relieve Jaime of his watch.

Handing off the Stark girl, Jaime starts towards the kitchens in hopes of some food and perhaps an ale so he can spend the next hour or so that he is off duty in some sort of relative peace. He's rounded the corner down the stairwell when the Stark girls' handmaid, Aleah he believes she was named, catches pace with him and gives a stern sort of look that Jaime simply responds to with a raised brow and silence.

"You shouldn't be so rude to her." She says after a several steps of silence.

"I wasn't rude." He responds tersely, "I responded to her questions. Besides as I told her before my job is to guard her, make sure she doesn't go running off or something stupid like that. _Not_ to converse with her as though we were friends."

"But you did," Aleah states as they turn the corner and exit out onto a walkway, "at least you did until you realized that was what you were doing."

He glances at her, his brows furrowed and shakes his head, "I was not, and you should guard yourself as well. You know what her fate holds."

"Maybe, maybe not." Aleah states, "I've been here at court longer than you Ser, so do not presume I don't have a solid understanding of how the King fares. And how those in his custody tend to turn out." Jaime sighs, memories and thoughts of those Aerys had burnt were stuck in his mind, they are hard images to forget. "But, whatever her fate is she doesn't deserve to be miserable and friendless."

"There is nothing I can do." He shrugs turning towards the kitchens closest to the Kingsguard quarters. "I don't plan on getting in any sort of trouble because I became fond of the wounded horse as it were."

"Then don't get attached," Aleah says, "but stop being rude. You can still speak with her; conversation won't hurt you. Keep yourself distant and detached during it but don't ignore her." They've entered the kitchen, and he watches her fetch some fruits and meats, "you like her, regardless of whether you let yourself or not. She's innocent in this all, and easy to like, that's why you speak so easily with her when you forget yourself."

And then she was gone, leaving him with a sour mood to fetch his food.


	4. Deals

**_Eddard_**

Moat Cailin was a welcome sight when Ned arrived just a fortnight after departing from Winterfell with his own men. The ruined stronghold was as foreboding a sight to Ned as it had been all the other times he'd seen it. But it wasn't truly the sight of the stronghold that settled Ned, but the sight of the men camped for miles around it. Banners of the northern houses could be seen in all directions, Umber, Karstark, Mormont, Reed and more waved in the slight wind moving through the area as Ned rode through the camps. Across the field, south of the Northern camps he'd spotted the sky blue falcon of Jon Arryn, surrounded by other sigils of the Vale bringing simple relief to Ned as the worry of not meeting with Jon faded away.

He rode towards the falcon, stopping frequently to speak with the lords of the north as he went. Several of the northern Lords who stopped him on his way telling him that they'll follow him to the gates of Kingslanding to get justice for Rickard and Brandon and all the north men killed by Aerys.

Jon Arryn stands behind a table in his tent, staring down at a map held down with rocks. He glances up when Ned enters, offering a smile and nod to welcome him in. "I saw you met no defiance from any of your lords when you called the banners." Ned walked forward to study the map himself while Jon spoke, "Robert's just arrived at Storm's End but he's already written that he's had a few houses who have begun to refuse join against the crown."

"Gulltown went well though," Ned notes, looking at the collected unit pieces to represent the Vale. "Hopefully Robert fairs as well in the Stormlands."

Jon nods, "Grafton put up a fight, but it wasn't a strong enough one when it came to it." Ned followed Jons eyes to Riverlands, knowing as well as Jon that they'd have to pass through there to meet with Roberts forces when they'd gathered. "Robert got the final strike upon him, his forces fell quickly after that and came to our side with no more resistance."

"Sounds like Robert," Ned says with a slight smile. He looks up at Jon and studies the concentrated look upon his face. "You have the look that you get when you've got something planned…"

"I do," He states. "The Riverlands hasn't declared either way, I'm hoping to swing them to our side."

"Hoster Tully's daughter was engaged to Brandon," Ned looks down at Riverrun upon the map, "He has a right to be offended at Brandons death like us."

"That could be true," Jon sighs, "but he could also decide it better in his interests that he stays loyal to the crown." Jon taps his fingers against the table as he thinks. "Unless we give him something that would make the risk of rebelling worth it."

Ned looks up at Jon who stares at him with sympathy in his eyes. "You know what you want to offer…" Ned glances down once more and pushes what he knows Jon will say from his mind.

"Your father and Lord Tully had made an arrangement to marry his daughter to the future lord of Winterfell. At the time that was Brandon."

"But now it is me," Ned clutches a fist. He feels a pang of hurt and guilt in his chest whenever one of the men around him call him _Lord Stark_, and now the pain and guilt increase with the thought of marrying Brandons betrothed.

Ned finally nods after several moments of silence "Okay." He feels ill saying it. Ill at the idea of marrying his brothers betrothed. All of it made him ill, being Lord of Winterfell, marrying the Tully girl, this war that is costing him his family.

He didn't want it, he wanted Brandon to be here in this tent speaking with Jon Arryn. Once they ride out with their forces towards the Riverlands he wishes it were Brandon heading to marry Catelyn Tully, Brandon speaking to his commanders and spending the evenings planning with Jon Arryn. He wishes he were here to support his brother in this rebellion. Not to be the one of the ones leading it.

**_Jaime_**

It was quite clear to every noble in Kings Landing that the King was beginning to get quite sick of his Hand. Lord Merryweather, who had taken over after Jaime's father had left, had never seemed the most efficient of men. Chosen as hand likely because of his proficiency at throwing feasts and lavishing praise upon Aerys, and not for his proficiency with politics and war. Which it seems the man had decided these last few months that war was not an issue in the seven kingdoms.

Even when news of Gulltown and Jon Arryn calling his banners reached court, the Hand hadn't stirred to rally men against the upstarts. Choosing to rely instead on those lords that were loyal in the Vale, and as such paying for their inability to overcome those who were more loyal to Lord Arryn. Even after that blunder, the Kings Hand still has yet to truly stir against the rising news of more rebels rising to the Baratheon lords call to arms in the Stormlands or the whisperings that the Northmen have met up with Jon Arryn near Moat Cailin.

No, the Owen Merryweather was by all appearances ignoring the threats and passing them off as momentary rise-ups that will fall upon themselves and require little to no attention from the crown.

Thus the quite lavish spending for this year's feast and festivities celebrating King Aery's rule and the anniversary of his crowning. The tourney yard and jousting list were set up for the day and the smells of a feast already were filling the area near the kitchens as Jaime wanders through the halls towards the White Sword Tower to get his duties for the day from the Ser Gerold. He holds a small hope that he would be free for the day, given leave to enter the tourney and perhaps not be near when something potentially goes wrong.

That hope was small though, and thus he doesn't show his disappointment when the White Bull informs him he'll be spending his day guarding the Stark girl.

As he left the tower and headed towards the maiden vault he felt a bitter resentment flare towards the girl, the Bull, and his own situation here. Not only would he be stuck guarding, and not allowed to joust in the tourney he would be stuck inside with the girl. Left completely out of the festivities.

It wasn't her fault, he tried to tell himself, she likely would be bitter or upset about the fact that she was locked away from the festivities as well. Though, why would she want to celebrate the crowning of the king who killed two of her family and wanted to kill a third? Though, it would likely not be too difficult to ignore that so that she could simply enjoy something fun in Kings Landing for once.

Jaime paused at the steps of the stairs leading to the Maiden Vault, considering his thoughts before letting out a sour sigh and turning back towards the White Sword Tower.

* * *

The White Bull seems to consider Jaime seriously for several moments before giving a stern nod. "I don't see why she can't attend the feast or festivities. Though I'll have you go to Merryweather to check with him as well. She's his ward after all." The older knight then sends Jaime on his way.

At the Hands Tower next he finds Merryweather with a slew of people who he was sending this way and that to finish preparations in the Tourney Yard and the great Hall. "Ah Ser Jaime, is there something you require?" the Hand asks once he notices Jaime's presence in the doorway.

"Yes," he steps further into the room, "the Lord Commander has assigned me to the Stark girl today, but we were unsure whether she should be allowed at today's festivities?" He didn't want to say it was him that wondered this. It felt less personal if it was something the Lord Commander was inquiring about, rather than something Jaime was asking for.

A servant dressed in fine garb is attempting to grab Merryweathers attention as the Lord considers, "yes… yes. I do not see issue with that so long as you keep with her and she is kept in check."

Jaime doesn't bother replying, only nodding with a bow and departing. Leaving the man to tend to the affairs of the kingdom, or at least those that are to do with today's festivities.

His walk to Alys's chambers are met with the bustling staff making their preparations for the feast in the main hall and others making sure the tourney grounds are prepared for the joust and melee both. He passes maids and cooks and guards preparing, each giving a gentle nod to the passing Kingsguard until he arrives at the Maiden vault and outside Alys's quarters. He rasps his knuckles briefly against the door before entering.

Alys glances up at him from the chess table before her. Her handmaiden is elsewhere, likely dragged by someone to help prepare some part of the festivities. She considers him a second before moving a piece in front of her.

"Tough competition?" He questions after a few moments of her moving pieces about with consideration, a quiet air hanging over the both of them.

"Oh yes," she states moving another piece as he shuts the door behind him and enters further. "Aleah was playing, but another handmaid, one of the queens I believe, came rushing in worried over something for the feast… or perhaps it was something with the tourney?" Another piece moves, "so I took over here for her."

"Well," Jaime states, "I would recommend getting dressed for the festivities, though perhaps you are. I'm unclear on northern fashions. Or southern really, but I see that more often."

She looks back at him then, her brow furrowed as she questions him. "I don't believe I'd be allowed. Hostage remember." She starts to turn back to her solo game of chess when he speaks.

"All settled, so long as you behave this evening you are allowed to wander the tourney grounds and join the feasting and drinking."

She stops moving for a few moments, fingers holding a piece lightly over a spot as she considers. Whether it's his words or the pieces' movement he's not sure until she sets the piece down and shakes her head. "I believe I'll stay in, though thank you for thinking of me."

Jaime stood puzzled a moment, "you'll stay in?" She nods with a noise of affirmation, not looking at him. "Not long ago you were complaining of boredom, now given a chance for some entertainment you refuse it?"

She glances up from her board with a huff. "What does it matter if I refuse it? Yes, I'm bored, and depressed, and hate this room with more passion every day I wake here… but I fancy it more than walking about the tourney yard to have people avoid and ignore me with looks of sympathy. I'm far better here than at a tourney celebrating the man who burned my father and brother alive."

She turns back to her chess table. Jaime sighs, but he feels far more annoyed at her than sympathetic. "You don't have to go near him, and fuck what people go whispering. Focus on the more entertaining parts. Wine, food, dancing at the feast…"

"Why do you care so much?" She accuses, "you've made it clear enough that you aren't my friend and don't care for my happiness in this situation so why push for me to go?"

Because he doesn't want to spend the day locked up here as well, in the depressing Maiden Vault with its depressing hostage maiden. He doesn't say this, lest he get himself hit with more books and pillows. He does imagine that with enough force behind the throw those chess pieces would hurt a bit. "I care that you don't go hanging yourself or something like that… I figured something fun would slow that."

"Well you were wrong." She replies but she stares at him still. "And you're lying, you're my guard for the day and you want to go, and so you need me to go."

"Congratulations you're not dimwitted like some ladies here."

"Well, perhaps… actually no I'm content in here for the day," she says the words with spite as she turns back to the chess game.

"Alys."

"Ser Jaime." She counters with a glare. "I had figured that you didn't like guarding from in here, so you can return to your post." She's bitter, he notes, almost like Cersei when something isn't going her way.

"Fine, I don't want to spend my day in here."

"With me."

"I could take or leave you if I'm honest."

She glares at him but seems to consider something, "if I decide to go enjoy these festivities, you'll speak with me? You won't leave me to wander like a sad lost duck in the middle of a flock of chattering nobles?"

"Sure, I can make conversation so long as you aren't boring."

"I'll try to not be boring."

"Good, get dressed if you'd like."

"One more thing..." Jaime groans, "you'll have to play a game of chess with me, every time you're my guard, at least… for a month." She smiles prettily at him like she's won something fine.

"I'm awful at chess."

"Then you can think of it as practice."

"Fine, you have a deal now…" he waves a hand for her to dress.

"I'll be just a few moments." She waves him from her room and a several moments later she exits beside him in a simple lace and silk dress and motions for him to lead her out.


	5. The Two Tourneys

**_Alys_**

_Neither of the Stark girls had ever been to a tourney before. Neither had Benjen, but he was not near as excited about the adventure as the twins. In his time at the Vale Ned had attended a few, and Brandon was far too northern to truly care for the spectacle that was a southern tournament, though that wouldn't stop him from entering the joust. _

_But Alys and Lyanna were struck in awe when they arrived at Harrenhal. First by the number of people surrounding the old black castle. Tents spread out in camps for near a mile surrounding the castle and so diverse in their inhabitants that walking through it all would take you across the seven kingdoms if you walked the whole span of camps. Lord Whent had truly attracted the whole seven kingdoms and beyond to the tourney at Harrenhal. _

_Then there was the castle itself. Entirely befitting that of song and story. The tall towers more fitting for the giants' old nan told about in her stories meant to scare them and delight them. Towers reaching so far to the sky the pair of girls would wonder what the feeling of standing atop it all would be. The melted stone breathing to life the stories of the Targaryen's own burning of the keep from history long ago. The godswood sprawling for acres that Alys found herself lost and wandering about until coming upon the terrifyingly old and weeping weirwood at the heart. _

_The first night before the true festivities had begun Lyanna had dragged her sister about the camps, the pair dropping into feasting parties and dancing to music they'd heard before and music they'd never before been granted so far north. They drank and laughed and danced through that first night before collapsing upon their bed in their own tent breathless and giddy from the evening and only growing more excited for the festivities that would come by sunrise._

* * *

Harrenhal had been the only tourney Alys had ever been to. Many called it the grandest tourney of its time. It had been wonderful, like magic and wonder that had made her feel like a girl from a song. But then the song had turned solemn and slow. She'd loved the tourney at Harrenhal, but she also hated it all the same for what came after.

The tourney celebrating King Aerys was smaller than Harrenhal had been. Where Lord Whents tourney was grand and so full of guests coming to compete for glory and reward. The tourney today had less champions from across the seven kingdoms preparing to compete for glory.

Nonetheless, out on the Tourney yard one might mistake the world for being at peace. The grass is green and lush, the wind a light breeze that ruffles the ladies' hair as they mill about and the sun shines brightly upon the festivities for the anniversary of the king. It is the image of what Alys had always imagined Kings Landing to be before the truth had burned it down before her.

She pushes her thoughts of burning and reality away, deciding to make the most of this day of festivities regardless of their true purpose. It was better to pretend as though she were simply some random lady visiting the capital for the tourney, a passerby who'd never have to learn the truth beneath Kings Landings pretty façade.

The tourney grounds of Kings Landing were a smaller sight than that of Harrenhals, and utterly lacking in the field of tents of those coming for the tourney. Most of those who were here for the tourney were either already residents of Kings Landing or found lodging in the city and keep. Lords and Ladies of the court milled about the yard drinking the wine from the servants who moved around the area, and knights from the surrounding areas prepped their amour, or their horse, or swung their swords to ready themselves for the joust or the melee.

As a servant passed by Alys collected a small goblet of wine for herself and another she offered towards Jaime, "unless of course that goes against the code of Kingsguard to drink on duty."

All that earns is a roll of his eyes before he takes the wine from her, "one drink is hardly a punishable offense even if they were worried about us holy knights of the Kingsguard being drunkards."

"No of course, too blessed by the seven to be drunks, leave that to the sour old Knights who no longer have the skill to win at these events." She sips her wine while walking towards the melee yard. "How many tourneys have you entered?"

"A few, three I believe." He considers it for a second while sipping from his wine, "and I won those melees before you ask how I fared."

"Not the joust though?"

"I wasn't a fan of the joust," He shrugs as the pair of them watch as the competitors of the melee prepare with their swords and their horses. She glances over at him and smiles a bit, "Don't give me that look, if I'd entered I'm quite certain I'd have won them all."

Alys laughs over her wine and shakes her head, "I was going to say that I also preferred watching the melee compared to the joust."

"You've only been to the one tourney?"

She nods and looks towards the melee field as Lord Merryweather entered it with two other council members. A smile and far more fanfare than Alys would think warranted upon the three of their faces as they commence with the opening ceremony with words of devotion and celebration all towards Aerys.

* * *

_It had truly seemed as though the gods had blessed Lord Whents tourney the first morning when the air was warm and the sun shone down upon the castle grounds and tourney yard. Alys had woken to the sounds of bustling about the camps outside her tent. She'd laid in bed with her sister for near half an hour just listening to the sounds of laughter and chatter as those around them readied for the day. It was only when Benjen burst into the tent that Lyanna woke with a glare towards their loud and laughing brother before tossing a pillow his way in retribution for waking her from what she'd said was an absolutely enchanting dream. _

_The sisters had helped each other dress before heading out to join their brothers for the festivities. Brandon was in charge, with father still north in Winterfell, and informed the two girls and Benjen that they could each have a glass of wine, no more lest they get themselves in trouble. Though that wouldn't stop them. Nor would wine would be the last reason for any trouble they would get into at Harrenhal._

_The Starks found themselves at their seats in the stands overlooking over the tourney yard. Lyanna sat herself beside Ned and had pulled Alys down to her other side only to produce a small look of frustration when Ned moved over to let Robert Baratheon take the seat beside her. She'd leaned over to Alys and whispered, "traitor," into her ear._

_"You can't avoid him forever, Lya." Alys whispered back as the King and Prince were escorted to their own high seats of honor by the Kingsguard. "He's your betrothed, it's best if you make the most of it. It could certainly be worse." _

_"It could also certainly be better," Lyanna huffed, watching as Lord Whent bent low in his bow before the Targaryens. "Gods, is that the king?" _

_Alys followed her view to the man sat upon an intricately carved chair, dark wood with velvet padding. Dragons with rubies for eyes were carved for the armrests. "He looks sickly," Alys said with surprise, "should he be here if he's ill? The travel couldn't be helping him fair well."_

_"No one's seen him outside Kings Landing in so long," Lyanna leant forward a bit, looking to study the king better, "I can entirely understand why now."_

_"Lya…"_

_"I meant no offence, not that he could hear me if I did." Lyanna smiled and turned her attention to a different Targaryen, "the prince though, he's more stunning then I'd imagined from the way the ladies raved about him last night."_

_Alys moved her gaze from sickly Aerys to Rhaegar, who looked how one would imagine the Dragon King should look. Perhaps Aerys had when he was younger… the exact image of what a Targaryen would be; tall, long white hair and piercing purple eyes noticeable even from across the tourney yard. "He is handsome," Alys muses before taking her attention from the Targaryens opposite them and instead to the opening ceremony where the Kingsguard have taken up stances while a young knight in golden armor moves towards them across the yard. _

_"What's happening?" Alys asks, leant over her sister so Ned could hear._

_"It appears the Kingsguard is getting a new member." Robert answered before anyone else, "one I'm sure the Kings Hand is thrilled with." He laughed at his own words and Alys watched Lyanna roll her eyes before turning back to watch as Gerold Hightower stood before the young knight, a white cloak in hand._

_"Its Jaime Lannister," Benjen whispered to her, sat on her other side. "That's why Robert said the hand wouldn't be thrilled."_

_"He's Tywin Lannisters heir," Alys stated, recalling her lessons on the great families of Westeros. "That would be like Brandon joining the nights' watch."_

_"Yes, well with far more gold and glamor." Benjen said with a smirk, "perhaps that's why there are, from what I could see, no Lannisters of Casterly Rock here. Save that one of course."_

_Alys watched as Hightower swung the cloak around Jaimes shoulders. She'd smiled lightly at the look of pride upon the boy's face as he rose and bowed to the King before walking off the yard so the first jousts could begin. _

_"Can we go get some food Aly?" Lyanna asked once the events began and Alys nodded with understanding as Lyanna stood quickly and moved away from Robert. "Gods if I must listen to him go on about how he's going to dominate the melee tomorrow I might as well have more than one glass of wine in my vicinity." _

_Alys giggled at her sister as they walked towards the food tents, "he can't honestly be as bad as you believe him to be." She remarked, "perhaps he's simply nervous, you are a beautiful girl that he's likely realized he'll be spending the rest of his days with Gods willing."_

_"Please do not remind me of that," Lyanna whined._

_"He's trying to impress you, after a while he'll likely settle and you can get to know him truly."_

_"I would rather not." Lyanna stated before squinting off at something, "what is happening over there?" And before Alys could inquire what her sister was on about Lyanna was off, grabbing a tourney sword from a pile near some training squires and rushing towards a group of boys around another upon the ground._

* * *

The melee goes quick with only a few dozen competitors for today. Alys watches with interest. Deciding in the first few minutes to root for Ser Barristan who rides upon his own white spotted charger against the other competitors. She claps loudly when he unhorses one of the opponents and keeps her eye on him throughout the chaos.

She's even a bit sad when Barristan is unseated by another knight riding past with a longsword. She sips her wine slowly. Sneaking occasional peaks to Jaime sat beside her, who is looking a bit annoyed and sour at the remaining competitors of the melee fighting amongst each other. The melee eventually ending with a young man with who'd lit his sword alight at the start of it all the victor.

Jaime and her leave their spots in the stands to wander the tourney yard as they begin to set up for the joust. Alys leads them towards where a feast of food has been left prepared for the noble born attendants of the tourney to pick at and enjoy until the feast later tonight_. _

Alys speaks up while she looks over the selection of breads, meats, and sweets. "For someone who forced me to attend this tourney you don't seem to be enjoying yourself." She finally grabs a small apple cake from the tables and takes a delicate bite while studying Jaime.

"I did not force you," He states.

"Pressured and persuaded." She teases.

"I would've become content to stay outside your door all day." He remarks grabbing his own bit of food from the table.

"Clearly not, considering how annoyed you seemed at my initial refusal." She takes another bite of cake. "Was the melee not up to your standard? Or are you just no longer the fan of tourneys you seemed this morning?"

"Watching and competing are far different things." He finally complains, glancing down at her with a sour look. "It was enjoyable enough, but it's hard to truly enjoy the spectacle when you know that if you'd been allowed to compete you would have won by a long shot."

"You are quite the overconfident man Ser Jaime," she points out before moving along the table, searching along for something else to catch her fancy after finishing off the last piece of her cake.

"I have every right to be," he tells her as she reaches for a bit of honeycomb and takes a bite. "I know I'm better than near every knight here in Kingslanding."

"Near every knight? Well… who are you not too overconfident about?" She smirks at him earning a roll of the eyes.

"I'm being humble." He retorts, reaching around her to retrieve a bit of smoked meat and cheese. After several moments of her staring and waiting he sighs and admits, "Hightower most like. Arthur Dayne, though he is still off missing with Rhaegar and thus doesn't quite count."

She nods along as he speaks, "those are some hefty foes to be sure." She moves along, away from the table of food and off to walk about the yard a bit. "I don't recall you competing at Harrenhal." She states after they've walked a bit, she glances at him and is met with a small bitter flash in his green eyes.

"No," He sighs. His voice tight as he continues, "I'd wanted to… but the King assigned me to return to Kingslanding immediately to watch over the Queen and prince Viserys."

Alys hums and purses her lips for a moment. "Shame, I do wish I could've seen you in the melee."

"I'm sure you would have been wildly impressed." He tells her, a quirk of his lips to convey his cockiness.

"I don't know," She remarks with a shrug. "I've never seen you fight, so I'm uncertain whether you would have been my choice to root for in it. Especially since my sisters betrothed was competing and was as naturally confident as you seem to be."

"Robert Baratheon? All size and brawns, I could outmatch him with speed and thought." Jaime states defensively.

"Plenty of the others in the melee were fast and thoughtful, he still won at the end." She smirks and glances forward, spotting a familiar figure. "Come I want to speak with Barristan." She leads him onwards towards the tent set up for the Kingsguard. She pauses momentarily to pet Barristans horse where it stood grazing lightly on a patch of grass.

"Lady Alys," Barristan greets when he comes out the tent, securing his sword at his waist. "I was glad to see you joined the festivities today."

"You did wonderfully in the melee Ser," She replies with a smile, "I was sad to see you unhorsed."

"Ah, well thank you for the kind words." He bows his head slightly, "I'm sure Ser Jaime would've rather been out on the field as well."

"Yes well instead he's quite stuck with me, to the disappointment of the both of us," Alys teases with a smile as Jaime rolls his eyes. "In truth," she says with more gentleness, "I wouldn't have left my room today if Jaime hadn't convinced me a bit of fun and sunshine would do me more good."

Jaime glances over at her while Barristan looks to Jaime with surprise before nodding, "That is good, you deserve to stretch about." A moment of silence passes them before Barristan bids them both goodbye to go stand guard over the Prince Viserys in the Red Keep.

The pair make their own way back to the stands as the joust begins. Alys starting a small conversation about some random thought about a time in Winterfell and prompting a similar story of Jaimes own childhood at Casterly Rock. They spend the moments between the tilts speaking of little things like that. She tells him of her favorite spot in Winterfell's keep, a small little nook near the Lords chambers where no one but her father or mother could ever find her, not even Lyanna. He tells her about the lions his late grandfather had kept at Casterly Rock until his death. The chat back and forth, following little tangents where they may until the last joust has finished and they are bidden to go back up to the Red Keep for the feast.

* * *

_The Great Feast of Harrenhal was as lively as the rest of the tourney. But that first night was the only night that all the lords and ladies who'd come to the castle were feasting all together in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths. Even the King Aerys was in attendance of the feast, where in all other meals he ate alone save a taster and his Kingsguard, this one he sat above it all in the galleries overlooking the massive space of the hall._

_Music echoed through the tall stone and carried across the tables as the attendants laughed and drank together. Amongst the northerners, Alys sat between her sister and Benjen. Their newly acquired companion Howland Reed across from the trio of the youngest Starks. Ned sat beside Reed, brooding over an ale while he made sad eyes of longing towards a certain girl with purple eyes and an enchanted look about her. Brandon moved about the room more through the evening, laughing and conversing with near every lord and lady in the room. _

_"No, no, no," Alys shook her head furiously, a flush to her face and a laugh stuck in her throat. "You should have seen her Ned, Lyanna chased those squires down with the sword like she was fearless."_

_"I was." Lyanna states with pure confidence laced in her own voice, "those squires did not scare me, I only wish I had hit them all harder."_

_"Ha!" Benjen laughed, a bit of his own ale spilling, "I wish I'd seen that sister." He looks towards Howland sat across them. "You see them somewhere in here?" _

_Before Reed can speak Lyanna nods and stands up upon her bench, searching the crowd and pointing each squire out amongst the long length of tables before them. This earned her a cacophony of laughter from the table amongst them and Alys pulling at her sister between fits of a laughter to get her to sit back down. "Well, I imagine their knights'll be in the lists tomorrow," Benjen drinks, "shall we outfit you with armor and horse? Give you a chance to get you own revenge?" _

_"I don't know. It'd not do much good I fear," Howland states with a shake of his head, "I'm not a knight, I don't know much about jousting. I'd be more like to make a fool of myself." _

_"They are the ones who deserve to be made a fool of," Lyanna remarks with a bite to her tone, "complete asses."_

_"Lyanna." Ned finally returns to the conversation at his sisters' curse, "that's not…"_

_"I swear to the old gods and the new, Ned, if you say it's not ladylike I'll throw this wine at you." Lyanna glares before turning to her sister. "Come, Alys lets dance."_

_Alys had loved the feast. She'd loved the sound of the music echoing throughout the hall. The feeling of weightlessness when she and Lyanna danced amongst the other ladies. Twirling about and laughing, drunk on wine and spirit. The pair had even danced with others. Lyanna had, reluctantly, danced with Robert before spiriting herself away without a word. But the pair each also danced with Howland, with Wyman Manderly, with a Dustin boy and a Mormont. Alys and her had danced with near every northern Lord in attendance. But also a smattering of southern Lords who they'd never met before this tourney. Alys had spun about with Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne telling her about the red mountains of Dorne and Sunspear on the sea. She'd danced with a pretty smile about her face with Oswell Whent and talked about the history of Harrenhal with him until Lyanna had forced her away. She'd spun about with knights and lords from all about the Seven Kingdoms. Lyanna had as well, even after Alys had decided to settle back onto the benches, content watching the laughing and dancing people next to Ned and Howland. _

_She'd been overjoyed when Ned danced with Ashara Dayne, hating how lovesick her brother had looked all evening and knowing that he hadn't the nerve to ask her to dance. She'd considered going herself but Brandon had beaten her to that idea, leading the most sought after girl of the dance to their shy young brother before taking a break from his rounds about the feast to sit beside Alys._

_Alys had sat leant against her brother when Rhaegar had played his harp. Had laughed loudly with him when Lyanna poured wine upon Benjens head for teasing her for her tears at the Princes' music. She'd yawned as the night fell near its end. Woke later to her brother settling her in her bed after carrying her out of the feast._

_"Thank you Brandon," she'd remarked with a soft and tired voice. _

_He'd kissed her head and wished her sweet dreams before leaving her tent._

* * *

The Great Hall had been transformed from the long empty pathways with only the Throne at the head and the skull of the great dragons of the past lining the sides. The once empty space now filled with long tables for the nobles of the court to take their seats upon and feast. The iron throne still loomed at the end of long hall, the last bits of sunlight shining down upon it through the stained glass, but in front of it was another long table with smaller carved thrones for the King and Queen to sit upon.

Alys wanders in hesitantly. A new apprehension washing over her as she thinks about where she would sit. Unlike out on the tourney yard Jaime wouldn't be sitting beside her, he'd have to take his place with the other guard, nearby her to keep an eye but not able to sit and chat with her like she'd have wanted.

Jaime seems to sense her nerves and glances about before leading her towards a specific spot. When Alys notices where he is leading her she feels a wave of relief pass over her upon spotting Aleah stood speaking to some other ladies. When the handmaid notices the pair coming she smiles brightly and motions Alys to sit, "I have to go tend to some things, but I am so glad you are enjoying the day."

Before she leaves them Alys notices a small smug glance Aleah gives Jaime which receives a glare from him before he bows slightly to Alys and the ladies she now finds herself surrounded by and moves back to stand his guard.

"Your name is Alys right?" one of the girls asks with a kind smile upon her face, "I am Alerie, Hightower, though married to Tyrell."

She speaks kindly enough, though after weeks of being ignored by the others at court Alys feels hesitant though she attempts to hide it with a sweet smile and courtesies. "You are one of the queens' ladies am I correct?" The queen had near a dozen ladies in waiting in Kingslanding.

"Yes, this here is my good-sister Mina," She motions to the slighter girl with a mousy brown hair beside her.

"Did you enjoy the tourney?" Mina asks, leaning forward on the table ever so slightly so the three could speak without having to talk too loudly over the music and conversation around them.

"Yes," Alys answers honestly, "it was nice to get out of my room for a little."

"Perhaps you could join us for our lunches in the gardens sometime." Alerie proposes before leaning just slightly closer, "Aleah is a friend, her father is a sworn knight to my husband's own father."

"I've known her all my life," Mina adds, "she told us how bored you've been since you got here."

"Forgive us for not calling upon you," Alerie speaks, Alys feeling a bit of a flutter in her chest as the two girls go back and forth. "We were simply afraid. But enough time has passed that we're willing to risk a bit of fear."

"Especially since her grace spoke of Merryweathers proposal to marry you to Viserys."

"Viserys?" Alys furrows her brows, "he's a bit younger than I." Though that wasn't often a big factor to arranged marriages, it wouldn't happen until he was of age. "And I don't imagine that's the best option for him, with my family in rebellion…"

"Yes and no," Alerie shrugs, "it's more of a proposal for after the rebellion is over."

Alys nods bleakly, grabbing her cup of wine and taking a long sip before setting it down. The two girls, seemingly noting her downward shift in spirit are quick to change the subject away from the topic of rebellion, traitors, and war. Moving instead to talk about frivolous things like the knights around them, the outcome of the tourney, and the hopefulness for a good summer.

Alys offers bits and pieces to the conversation at first, enough to stay involved. But after a while before she finds herself genuinely laughing along with the ladies around her. Course after course come out before them and by the end of the sixth Alys feels light as air from the wine and food and company. The ladies around her are conscious to keep her involved in the conversations, asking about whether this custom or that is carried in the north. Sharing stories of blissful times from childhood for each of them. Laughing at jokes made towards the gossip of the court.

Throughout the meals Alys sneaks little glances toward Jaime, studying him as he stands alert behind her. Yet still he seems bored, Alys wishes lightly that he could be sat beside her, laughing at the conversations and adding his own bit of sour sarcasm as commentary. But she understands, he isn't here as a guest but as a guard.

Still she sends him coy smiles and bits of blushing laughter whenever he notices her looking towards him. He'll roll his eyes and even convey silent jokes that earns a small giggle from her lips.

The night was going so well, she thought. She was enjoying herself entirely by the last course. She liked Alerie and Mina, and hoped that they'd meant their invitations to lunch with them in the garden. She wanted to feel like this again, to feel normal. Join in the gossip about the court, eat sweets and drink wine with other ladies out in the sun.

She enjoyed the feeling of light spirit she got from the Arbor wine and company, a thing she had known she missed and longed for but hadn't realized how starved she'd truly been for it until today.

She'd been enjoying herself so much she hadn't noticed the king once throughout the feast. Hadn't deigned or dared to look towards the high table at the head of all the others. Hadn't listened for him or looked. She was ready to go the entire evening without sparing him a thought when a croaking shout sounded over the crowd and a silence fell hard upon the laughter. She couldn't stop herself from looking with the rest towards the sound and spotting a scared server stood before the king, his pitcher of wine shaking in his hand and all color from his face gone.

"Treasonous, poisoner." The kings voice was gravel and dark, echoing in the now silent hall. "Trying to poison the king, using his wine." He shook as he spoke, "Hightower, Hightower." He shouted though Ser Gerold was beside him in an instant. "Apprehend this traitor, fetch Rossart, deal with it all burn it all."

Alys felt fear wash over her, she wanted to run. She wanted to jump from her spot and run for her life. But she was frozen, as though if she were to move he'd spot her amongst the sea of faces and decide she would be burned as well. So all she could do was watch along with all the others as the serving boy was thrown to the ground, crying and shaking as a man in dark robes brought a glowing green liquid towards him. Alys became fixed upon the boy, watching as the liquid was poured over his shaking form.

She couldn't remove her eyes from him as the fire was lit, flickers of green lighting the room in its sickly hue and the sound of the boys screams filling the hall where joyous music had once echoed. She feels the sting of tears as heat fills the area and the kings cackling intermingles with the screams in a wicked harmony.

She near jumps out of her skin when a hand lands on her shoulder. "Come on." Jaime whispers in her ear as he pulls her from the spot and moves her along the edge of the hall where they can be less seen.

He pulls her through the halls and along the ramparts, leading her quickly along. She doesn't pay much attention to anything but the sound of screaming. She notes without much feeling that the sound of screaming doesn't disappear until they've reached the Maidenvault. Was he really that loud? Or was the Red Keep just designed just so that the screams could echo throughout it all so everyone would know when someone died.

* * *

_The joust takes days. With so many competitors entered each day brings a new batch until the last few._

_The second day is the day that the mystery knight entered the lists. _

_"Where is Lyanna?" Brandon asked when he joined his siblings after his last tilt for the day._

_"Likely getting in trouble somewhere," Benjen laughs though he stops when Brandon shoots him a very lordly look like their fathers. "Probably just exploring the camps, as she does." _

_"I can go look for her?" Alys had offered but Brandon shook his head. _

_"She can't get in too much trouble I hope."_

_Alys nodded, but she shifted slightly hoping he was correct in that assumption. In truth she knew exactly where her sister has run off to. Brandon and Benjen hadn't noted that Howland was missing as well. But Alys knew he was off in the woods with Lyanna, helping her outfit herself in armor and horse. _

_When the Knight of the Laughing Tree enters the first of their rounds Alys's nerves send her heart racing as she watches them race towards the opponent from House Haigh. The first knight whose squire Lyanna had chased away from Howland._

_That first win earns some applause, a mystery knight was always intriguing for the audience of a joust. Alys had watched from beside Brandon as across the stands onlookers whispered theories as the Knight came out for their second bout against the second of Howlands attackers, the knight from house Blount falling even harder than the first to a cacophony of cheer._

_It's the third victory that earns more theorizing and cheering from the crowd, smallfolk and noble alike. The knight from house Frey unhorsed as quickly and easily as the first two. As the Knight sat upon their own horse the two other knights had joined the third, asking how they could get their losses back from the Knight, wanting their swords and armor and horses returned to them._

_The Knight, in a deep and booming voice that Alys smiled at stated that they could get it all back so long as they teach their rude squires honor. A task the three knights rushed to._

_That night everyone was abuzz with talk of the mystery knight. King Aerys spoke his paranoia over the knight to all who would listen. At their own camp, Robert Baratheon declared with drunken confidence that he would be the man to unmask the Knight. A declaration that Alys leaned into Lyanna during, laughter falling over the pair until they excused themselves with Howland to the Godswood to celebrate the Knights successes without others about._

_The next day the Knight had vanished, with only three attendants knowing the truth of the identity. Knowing the search party headed by Rhaegar and ordered by Aerys would find nothing but a shield within a tree. _

_It wasn't until months later, in the darkness of their room at Riverrun that Lyanna told Alys that Rhaegar had discovered her when she was hiding the shield. He'd gone searching for the knight after the last joust that second day and had found her in the woods where she changed._

* * *

_The last day of the tourney Alys cheers loudly for Brandon even after the Dragon Prince unhorses him near the end of it all. She leaves the stands to meet him at his tent with little wildflowers she and Lyanna had found in the Godswood as a prize for his success, "You did wonderfully." _

_"I lost." He laughs, taking the flowers and hugging her before they leave the tent. _

_"Once," She reminds him as he walked back with her to the stands. "You won all the other times."_

_"That is a very positive way to look at it. Thank you." He laughs before the pair return, sitting amongst the rest of their family. Alys sits beside Lyanna and Brandon sits behind them both. They watch as the prince goes on to unhorse the last two competitors each, ending with Barristan the Bold falling from his horse and Rhaegar being declared the victor of the Tourney at Harrenhal by Lord Whent._

_Rhaegar sits proudly upon his horse. Tall and dignified looking like from a story or a song. He graciously takes the crown of winter roses from Lord Whents daughter. The task of naming the Queen of Love and Beauty falling upon him._

_It should have been easy. Elia Martell sat with her brother and young daughter in their own bit of the stands. She looked beautiful, Alys had noted the first time she spotted the Princess of Dorne, her hair catching the sun in a way that would a painting. Hands rested delicately upon her newly swelling belly, an ever present regal look upon her face._

_A look that didn't falter when Rhaegar rode past her. A look more collected than that of those around her when Rhaegar stopped before the Starks. Stopped before Lyanna with a little bow of the head before delicately placing the crown on her lap in a move that sent the Tourney at Harrenhal into the history books for reasons other than being the largest of its time._

* * *

The tears upon her cheeks aren't noticed until she's sat upon her bed and she lifts a hand to them. The taste of salt on her tongue and the quiet of the room almost suffocating.

"Thank you." She finally manages, looking up at Jaime where he stands after closing the door. "For getting me… for getting me out of there." She chokes a bit on a sob as she recalls the sight of the man melting from the heat.

She'd seen her father die. But he'd been in a suit of armor, she hadn't seen his flesh melt off his bones. She'd seen this boy fall apart as the fire ate away at him.

Alys looks up at Jaime, her lip quivering as the sob escapes and she slides off the bed to the ground, curling upon herself and shaking harshly. "How… how…" She tries to speak but nothing can form clearly in her mind or throat.

She jumps when arms surround her, the feeling of cool armor against her cheek as she sobs against the crook of Jaimes neck. He holds her tightly, a hand rubbing small circles against her back.

She wept for what felt hours. All the tears stuck inside her since the beginning of this hell falling from her in waves. Tears ran down her face, fall upon Jaimes skin, fall against his armor and trailing down in droplets like rain. She didn't know she had this much in her, she hadn't realized how long she'd gone without sobs racking her body like this. _Not since the night Jaime had snapped at her._ How different this was from then, how different this was from after her father and brother died. She was held now. She was comforted and allowed herself to sob loudly like she hadn't ever before.

She doesn't know if she could keep the sound in if she tried, she had been quiet here for so long. Stifling sobs and screams and the need to make noise. She was a quiet person but not now. Now she was a cacophony, she was a storm of tears that fell around them both.

Eventually the storm ends. Sobs quieting to little whimpers, that fall silent themselves after a moment. Jaime holds her till she pushes back herself. The pair of them sat upon the ground she rubs away the tears stained against her cheeks and looks at Jaime with the gentle eyes of appreciations.

"Thank you." She says with a small hiccup after moments of quiet. "I think… I think I'm not a fan of tourneys." She achieves the smallest laugh when he laughs at that. His was a gentle laugh, soft like a feather pillow and quiet as though there was a fear that he'd startle her if he laughed too loud or too harsh.

They sit for several more moments until she moves first. The only sound around them the soft rhythm of their breathing. Standing together she thanks him again, for more than just one thing, but for everything. She tells him goodnight and after he's left she closes her eyes to everything around her and just lets the silence wash over her as though it would wash her clean of the ash, the tears, and the screams. She stands there in silence before letting out a breath and moving to ready herself for bed.


	6. The Beginning of Something

**_Jaime_**

Seven hells he was tired. He leans back against the stone outside Alys's room and shut his eyes for a few moments, relishing in the quiet that filled the halls of the Maidenvault. No sound but his own breathing filling his ears as he waits for his relief for the evening.

He had known something would go wrong. How could it not? With a mad king anything could be considered a slight. Wine spilled nearby can be seen as a botched poisoning attempt.

He'd gone away inside as usual, thinking of Casterly Rock while the poor serving boy was thrown to the ground and Rossart came forward with that horrid green liquid. He was thinking of what his sister might be up to when Aleah had crept up to him, the poor boy was screaming then as the liquid fell upon him. She'd whispered to him that he must take Alys back to her room, told him that if when the boys screaming ended the king still had an itch to burn more it would be best if Alys weren't in his frame of view.

He'd moved his eyes over to Alys then. Looking at her he'd felt an odd pang of guilt. But he'd nodded to Aleah and moved forward slowly as the room went up in green light and the boys screams got louder in a way one wouldn't think possible.

He'd gotten her out of there as quick as he could while going unnoticed. Quietly dragging her along the outside edge of the hall, only quickening his pace upon exiting the hall and taking the shortest route to the Maiden Vault.

When they'd made it to her room he'd shut the door behind him as she moved further into the room. He'd turned to her, guilt surging inside him when she turned to look at him. Leant against a post of the bed her eyes were wide and fearful pools of melting ice. She'd tried to speak, ask something, but her lip had only quivered and the only sound to truly escape was choked. He'd already started moving towards her when she sank down against the bed, her head shaking as tears begin to fall.

He doesn't think he would have been able to stop himself from kneeling down by her small shaking form. Taking her in his arms while she sobs racked her body. He hadn't given it a thought at all in all honesty. He only focused upon rubbing small circles on her back and letting her cry out all that was left in her.

Once he'd left the room and was left alone in the hall he cursed Aleah. That damned handmaid who'd been the one to tell him that not to ignore her, told him that shouldn't make her situation worse by leaving her with no companions in her solitude. He also cursed Alys herself, for being easy to talk to the way that Tyrion was easy to talk to. He'd actually been enjoying himself most of the day, he had enjoyed the conversations the two had had between jousts and the way that they easily moved about each other. He cursed Aleah once more for being right, Alys Stark was easy to like.

Finally, he cursed himself. The ass who rarely, if ever, thinks things through. Cersei had always told him that he rushed headlong into things and that that was what made him the stupidest Lannister of Casterly Rock. She'd always told him that if she wasn't there to plan things out for them he'd get himself into far more trouble than even father could get him out of. And here he is, cursing himself for not thinking enough about the tourney. The only thought he'd had being that he didn't want to miss out on it. He curses himself for persuading Alys into going, for making the damned deal that would make it impossible to ignore her like before.

Fuck.

He wanted to drink away his evening, perhaps fall asleep to thoughts of Cersei. He wanted to forget today had happened, forget the tourney, forget the king, forget Alys Stark. Forget it all if he can.

But he's brought out from his momentary self-loathing by the softest creak of the door behind him opening. He opens his eyes and tilts his head to look at her stood delicately in the crack of the door looking at him.

"Yes?" he asks, harsher than he'd meant but in truth he was feeling quite exasperated with the day.

"I know… I know that you are likely off duty soon and that a gold cloak will be coming to replace you at my door. But, do you think… could you stay with me until then. Just talking, I know you don't want to but I can't…" She speaks quickly, barely taking a breath before she stops and closes her eyes. Taking a slow breath before saying, "every time I've closed my eyes to try and sleep I just see that…" her voice starts to crack and Jaime notes that the ice of her eyes is melting.

He interrupts, "alright." His voice gentler, speaking in the way the stable master at Casterly Rock would to the new horses when he first started to train them. "But we'll wait till the guard has gotten here, I don't exactly wish to spend much more time in this armor. Believe it or not this isn't the most comfortable thing a man could wear."

"Really?" She says, her voice small and shaking but a small smile pulled at her mouth, "here I was thinking it was as comfortable as it was fashionable." He returns her smile before nodding for her to return to her room. He only has to wait a few more moments before the gold cloak arrives to take over the door duty for the evening. Jaime makes his way to his own room in the White Sword Tower quickly, changing from his armor into simple clothes and heading back towards the Maiden Vault.

When he arrives near he considers for a moment whether he should simply walk past the gold cloak or not. He thinks for a moment what that might look like to the man on guard, the Kingsguard he'd replaced returning to the woman he was guarding to spend time in her room, alone, late in the night.

He thinks fleetingly of what Cersei would say and knows she'd tell him it was an idiotic thing to do. Both because of the implications that could be made about the poor Stark girls' honor, something she likely doesn't need on top of all the rest, and because of possible repercussions towards him for spending time with a hostage of the crown.

So, best to not be seen. He stops to think momentarily; he knows there are secret halls throughout the keep. Made by Maegor the Cruel for escape and no maps ever made for the passages. He knew that it would incredibly easy to get lost within them. But he decides to give it a try, if he fails he'll go find Aleah and send her along to keep Alys company.

As he runs a hand along the hallway to find a door hidden amongst the stone he thinks to himself, perhaps he should just send Aleah, save him the trouble and the energy. But before he can commit to that he feels a small push to the stone and with both hands sliding along he finds a grip that lets him pull open the small door.

He has to duck to enter through it, the door only coming up to his abdomen. But once he's through he's able to stand up straight. The passage is dark, he gives his eyes time to adjust to the darkness before continuing forward while keeping in his mind where he was in the keep when he entered this tunnel and where in relation to that is Alys Starks room. He keeps a hand on the wall passage in that direction, following along and turning where he thinks makes sense.

The first exit he finds goes to a stairwell further down into the bowels of the keep. Continuing onto the second exit he finds himself behind the hearth of a room that isn't Alys's but is also thankfully empty. It's on the third exit he finds that he makes it. Pushing slowly against it, just in case it was not Alys's room, he opens the exit by the hearth and spots through it Alys sat on the edge of her bed.

As he moves through the exit she looks quickly towards him, startled she jumps up before recognizing it as him and shutting her eyes as she slows her breathing.

"Gods," she exclaims, "what… Jaime you scared me."

"Apologies," he remarks, shutting the door slowly behind him, "but I figured it would be better to not come through the main door. As I didn't have an excuse for why I would be coming here after my shift had ended."

"Oh," she looks over at him, her voice softer than before, freshly aware of the guard outside currently. "That was smart." She sits back down upon the bed and he moves towards her. "I... I didn't think you'd actually come back."

"So you were sitting on the edge of your bed waiting for no one?"

"I told you I couldn't sleep," She reminds him, "I've been switching between lying down and sitting up. And I think I've paced the room near a dozen times as well."

"Understandable considering the events of the evening," he sits beside her on the bed, reaching over to the table beside it and grabbing the book sat there. "Had you tried reading? I find that always puts me to sleep."

"I like reading, and it doesn't put me to sleep."

"Really? But they're all so boring." He flips through the book, not looking at any of the words as he did.

"Really." She confirms taking the book from his hand and setting it back upon the table.

They sit in silence for a little, Jaime surveying the room while Alys chews silently upon her lip. Finally, after near ten minutes of silence surrounding them she asks in the smallest voice, "how do you do it?"

"Hmm?" Jaime looks away from the very interesting tapestry hung above the hearth and back at Alys. "Do what?"

She doesn't look up at him as she speaks, instead focusing upon her hands resting lightly upon her lap. "How do you get through it, the death and madness?"

Jaime sighs, leaning back onto his hands he looks forward at the stone across them. "I go away inside."

"Go away inside?"

"Think of something else, preferably good things, but inane things work just as well." He studies the small cracks running through the walls. "Sometimes I'll wonder what my shift will be the next day, or what my siblings are doing at Casterly Rock, or what the kitchen's soup will be that night."

"You just ignore it?" he can feel her eyes upon him but he stays staring at the cracks on the wall. "I don't understand how…" She says it quietly before sighing, "but I suppose I do now. Better than before at least."

"How so?" He inquires.

"I've been... angry? Or frustrated I suppose is better. Frustrated at everyone here, not just for ignoring me but for the fact that no one does anything to stop the madness that the King does. They all just smile, nod along, and ignore the atrocities he commits." He looks at her now, her jaw is clenched and her hands fists upon her lap. "I never understood how the day my father and brother died there were so many people in that room, a majority of which had to know that what was happening was wrong, but no one said a thing against it. No one spoke up."

"People here learned a while ago it's best to not say anything." He watches her cautiously, studying her face as she looks over towards him and nods with a delicate breath.

"I know, I know," she concedes gently, "but after it had happened, when I was alone in my room for gods know how many days one of the things I kept thinking back to was how many knights had to be in that room. How many people sworn to uphold justice and protect the people of Westeros simply stood by as the King committed injustice." She chews her lip a moment before shaking her head at her thoughts, "yet tonight… tonight I was one of those bystanders. I watched that… that poor boy who did nothing wrong get pulled down in front of everyone. I heard his screams and watched him burn but I was powerless to do anything. I couldn't even move until you pulled me away, and I wanted to run, that was what I wanted to do when it started. Not help him, not scream for it to stop. I wanted to run away because I was afraid I would be next."

"That's understandable."

"It is… and it isn't." She says with quiet certainty before the two fall into a period of silence. Soon she crawls further back upon the bed lying down on her back, apparently deciding that staring at the ceiling was better than the wall. Jaime scoots over towards the end of the bed, leaning back against one of the posts of the bed and studying the room once more.

After some more silence has passed over them he starts to wonder if she'd fallen asleep, he glances over at her. Her eyes are shut, her breathing steady, but as though she can feel his gaze she asks quiet as a ghost "does it get easier?"

If you ignore it, he thinks. If you disconnect yourself enough and focus on something, anything else. But was it really easier? Or was it simply shoving the harshness away.

Finally, deciding that there was no good answer he says "it does… and it doesn't." He shifts slightly upon the bed as her eyes open and meet his own. "Just focus on surviving, ignore all the rest if you can."

"I don't know that I can do that." She whispers letting her head fall back upon the pillow.

"That is a problem you'll have to deal with yourself." He mutters, though she shakes her head at him.

"Thank you." She says after another moment, "for being kind today."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't get too used to it."

"I've got at least a month left of it," she smiles, "I might as well make the most out of that."

He lets out a curt laugh, "alright well I would like to get some sleep myself tonight. So at least try to sleep or I'm leaving you alone to those nightmares."

She hums at that, but does settle further into the bed. "Can you talk? Just about anything, I don't really care."

A sigh escapes him but he nods, though she doesn't see him do it. After a moment of contemplation, he starts to tell her a story Tyrion had read to him once. It had been a while ago told by a Tyrion who'd just found his intense love for books and wanted to read constantly. So while Jaime swung his sword at a straw man Tyrion would read loudly at him in order to be heard over the shrill clash of steel. He had to make up some of the parts that escaped his memory, but Alys didn't seem to mind, he even found the faintest smile on her lips as he went along. Then the smile drifted away with sleep and though Jaime knew he could leave the story there and make his way out of the room he finishes it. Soft words drifting through the dark room towards Alys's sleeping form, the only light a near extinguished candle flickering orange lights against her pale skin.

As he puts out the last flickering bit of the candle so he can leave he curses himself one final time for looking forward to his next shift as Alys Starks guard


	7. A Tyrell Luncheon

**_Alys_**

The few days after the tourney Alys stayed sequestered away in her room. Curled upon her bed, a mountain of pillows and blankets coddling her form as she reads a light hearted book she'd asked Aleah the morning after the feast.

For the most part she wants to forget what had happened at the feast. She wants to forget the smell, the sound, the green sickly glow that filled hall. So she does what Jaime had told her to. She ignores the thoughts of it and focuses on other, happier and trivial things. She reads the book from front to back, she daydreams about Winterfell and even takes a little paper and quill to sketch the weirwood when she runs out of book and needs something to easily fill her mind.

It is both easy and hard to keep her mind away from the madness of the feast.

Jaime wasn't her guard for a few days, instead Ser Darry stood quietly outside her door. He was the quietest of the Kingsguard, she'd found. Never speaking a word to her, just holding silent vigil outside her room.

It made her miss Jaime. A fact that surprised her slightly. She figures she shouldn't like him, shouldn't trust him. She has plenty of reasons not to. She has plenty of reasons to hate every person in Kings Landing who stood by as her family was killed and who did nothing about the mad king sat cackling upon the iron throne. But after the feast she found it hard to blame any of them, for now she was one of them.

He's also been cold to her. Namely the night he'd yelled at her. She'd supposed it was stupid of her, asking a man who's only duty was to make sure she didn't run off or kill herself to sit and chat. But she was, is, so lonely. And she'd enjoyed the brief lapses where he would interact with her. She'd liked the bluntness of his humor and the honesty he presented her with.

She should have hated him after that night. Ignored him and hated him. Or, at the very least, been angry. Lyanna would have hated him, would have been furious with him if she'd been the one yelled at.

But Alys was not Lyanna. Lyanna had always teased that she could never hate anyone in her life, she was always too forgiving and gentle. Perhaps she was, but perhaps if she were to survive this with any shred of happiness she needed to be forgiving, she needed to not hate where she could.

And besides, Jaime was easy to like. Easy to speak with and easy to walk beside in quiet harmony. She'd enjoyed the day out at the tourney primarily because of him, because of his humor and stories and company. She'd been a bit sad when he had to step away at the feast and she was left alone with the chattering ladies of the Reach.

She looked unbearably forward to his next shift as her guard.

* * *

Four days following the Kings Tourney Aleah arrived with a pretty southern style dress and invitation to lunch with the Tyrell girls in the gardens. The dress, made primarily with thin lace and sheer fabric, made Alys feel frighteningly exposed. Till this dress all the ones within her wardrobe were of more conservative fashion, high necklines and of thicker fabrics. As close to northern style as Aleah could find in the south.

But this dress was entirely southern, the sort of dress she'd seen ladies wear around Kings Landing and at Harrenhal. A dress she'd never honestly imagined wearing, she liked the northern style, and as Aleah braids her hair she stares in the looking glass while pulling at the fabric.

"It won't fall lower," Aleah assures her, "it's very finely made, fits you well, and quite beautiful upon you."

"I feel naked." Alys laments, curling her arms around her waist "you can see my stomach through the lace."

"Well," Aleah leads Alys up to stand before her, "I suppose you could wear something else, but that could be taken as a slight. Alerie had it made for you quite quickly."

Alys bites her lips, looking down at the dress. It was lovely, despite its ability to make her feel utterly uncomfortable. She pauses, considering. "Perhaps, something to go around the waist?" She asks, "I've seen some of the ladies of court wear similar fashions."

Aleah nods with a gentle sigh before heading out to find something to help Alys's nerves.

Glancing back in the mirror Alys smoothed down the front of the dress. The skirt was loose and swung easily about her feet, the fabric soft to the touch but light like silk for the heat of Kings Landing. The skirt didn't bother her, just the bodice. It was lace throughout, save some embroidery over her chest, the neckline plunging down between her breasts and her arms covered only by more of the thin lace. She liked the color though, dark almost black-blue was the base with the lacing a pale grey color detailing swirling designs that reminds her of snow and ice. She is pulling once more at the neckline when the door opens and she swirls around to see Jaime stood, a small smirk on his face as she blushes fiercely.

"Please do not laugh at me," She groans walking over to retrieve her night robe and quickly covering herself.

"Why would I laugh?" He inquires, "why are you covering yourself? You're perfectly dressed."

"I'm not," She sits with a huff upon her chaise, "I'm terribly exposed."

"Let me shield my eyes then," he quips a hand raising before his face. She lets out another little groan, burying her own head in her hands.

"Stop," she says, "do I look as ridiculous as I feel?"

"Well," he starts, "you look about as comfortable as a giant forced into a small room." His voice is laced with laughter which only gets her to groan more.

"I think my brothers would faint if they saw me wearing this, my father and mother too." She lifts her head and looks at him, "I don't think I'm made for southern fashion."

"Nonsense," he waves a hand, "you look as fine as the other ladies, save of course for the look of pure discomfort upon your face." She sighs, glancing down once more. "Truly, Alys, the dress is fine upon you and you have no reason to be nervous about it."

"It's odd." She plays a bit with her sleeve, "I do like the dress, just… I hate the feeling. So bare. The neckline is so low, the fabric so thin… I don't know how to feel comfortable in it."

"Fake it?" he suggests and she looks to him, eyes narrowed upon him. "Pretend you're as easily comfortable in the dress as any of those southern ladies until it becomes as easily comfortable, or at least until you can throw the dress away for one more to your liking."

"Alright," she muses, "but I have to wear it today, for the courtesy, and then…"

"We could use it as tinder?" Jaime suggests, motioning to the fire.

"No! Jaime…" Alys exclaims as Jaime starts laughing, "it's a perfectly fine dress, it just… it's not me."

"Fine no fire, but perhaps ask for all future dresses to be made how you like them."

"I didn't request this," She states pointedly, "Alerie Hightower had it made for me."

"Ah," he nods, "hence why you feel you must wear it. I heard you were invited to their luncheon."

"I assume you're my guard for it?" She inquires, trying to keep the eagerness from her voice.

"No, I came here in full armor because it is what I like to do when I am off duty."

"No need to be rude," She scolds before standing, gently setting her night robe back upon her chaise and looking back in the mirror. "I'll survive for the day with it… Thank you." She moves and shuffles things about on her vanity for lack of something to do while waiting for Aleah before they can leave.

When Aleah returns she glances fleetingly towards Jaime before nodding slightly in greeting. She brings with her a simple belt that she laces around Alys's waist, providing a slightly more covered stomach for the look. "Better?" she inquires.

"Yes," Alys feels her face flush slightly more, "sorry for making you run around for it."

"Stop, don't apologize. Now come along we don't want to be late."

* * *

Upon their arrival in the gardens they find the ladies of the Reach sat about each other on a canopied balcony overlooking a cove of water. In truth they hear them before they see them, laughter and music and voices intermingling in a symphony that makes Alys smile gently as Alerie spots her and stands immediately, her own wide and welcoming smile upon her face as she moves towards her taking her arm in her own and dragging her along towards the others.

Alys is introduced quickly to several ladies, a smattering of names that she makes a point to try and remember before she is sat down between Alerie and Mina. Mina leans quickly over towards her offering a little cake decorated with a rose. "Our cooks are quite the best, brought along with us from Highgarden. Alerie's insistence."

"Yes, I know how high maintenance." Alerie laughs, "but truthfully they make the most wonderful food, I would be sick eating only what the Red Keep cooks prepare." Alys laughs and takes a bite from the little cake, enjoying the sweet confectionary and listening as Alerie and Mina speak back and forth.

"Alys, the dress is lovely upon you." One of the other girls' comments, Valerie her name if Alys recalls. "The blue is stunning."

"Alerie gifted it to me," Alys remarks, "It took me by surprise if I'm honest."

"It suits you more than you seem to think," Alerie states, leant back in her seat and sipping sparingly at her wine. "All the dresses I've seen you in are so covered. And I mean no offense, but very northern for being so south."

"I… yes well I suppose. But I like the northern style, no offense towards the south, I've admired it as well… just not on me." Alys replies, reaching forward for a small bit of bread and meat stacked together.

"That is fair, I imagine all of us would be quite frozen if we wore these even in the northern part of the Riverlands," Mina states kindly, "but regardless, either style suits you beautifully Alys, not everyone can say that."

"I'll be quite honest I was terrified of this dress when I put it on."

"Yes," Alerie laughed, "you have seemed a bit more flushed in the face that before."

"It is entirely different for me, but… I do want to say thank you Alerie, it is lovely and has given me thoughts for future dresses." Alerie nods with a smile before turning to one of the other ladies and starting up a chat over a knight from the tourney.

Alys takes the small divergence of attention to stand and walk towards the edge of the balcony, looking out over the water. She watches a small fishing boat float over the crystalline water and enjoys the light breeze and smell of saltwater.

"Careful to not fall over," Jaime remarks, suddenly beside her and leant leisurely against the railing. "I don't imagine I'd be able to jump in the save you."

"No, you'd be more likely to drown than me." She jokes, "Don't worry I have no plans on falling, or jumping for that matter." She looks down along the balcony, even if she planned a jump it would be far from possible to make it to the water and to not hit the rocky cliff side the garden balcony rests upon.

"Have you tired of them so soon?" he inquires, glancing back and the gossiping girls and smirking as one of them looks away with a blush.

"No, not at all." Alys shakes her head, "just a moment of reprieve is always nice, and I've yet to visit the gardens here."

"Ah yes, until now you've been quite restricted to the Godswood and your room." He looks out at the water with her.

She shakes her head at him before smiling, looking over to see another girl looking him over and giggling. "You know; I believe I know why I was invited now." He raises a curious brow before she smiles, "well they've invited me when you were assigned to me, clearly you are quite the popular knight to gaze upon." She motions slightly to the girl who quickly looks away when Jaime glances over.

"Well, I hope that doesn't upset you," he remarks before adding, "I mean I imagine you would like to have friends that want you, not just the man assigned to guard you."

"Alys, come try this, its pumpkin soup." Mina calls out, beckoning her over.

"Oh well, I suppose at this point I'll take anything." She remarks, "otherwise I'll be stuck only with you and Aleah." She smiles and moves back from the balcony, heading back towards the table and smiling nicely at Mina who lifts a small spoon up for her to try.

It has likely been one of the most enjoyable afternoons for Alys in a long while, likely not since her and her siblings were all together around Harrenhal has she enjoyed herself so completely. She laughs along with them all as the midday sun passes over them and leads them well into the afternoon. She sips a glass of arbor gold slowly through the day, savoring the wine that she had tried in fleeting at Harrenhal that was now plentiful in Aleries stock. She adores the sweets that quickly take over the more savory foods of lunch as the girls around her play little games of chance and watch a fool sing jaunty songs.

Alys is leant back in her chair, sticky honeycomb in her fingers as she eats it slowly watching as a few of the other girls, younger ladies of the court, swing around each other laughing and singing along with the music being played. Mina Tyrell leads their swinging and wild dance, she had tried to get Alys to join, but she could only shake her head and lift her glass of wine in support.

Beside her Alerie sits, chatting to her and the few others still sitting about her. She sips her own glass of wine, and picks away at cakes and sweets. She is of talking about her children, Willas a boy of nine who apparently has taken to riding like a future true knight. Garlan, only 7 and a bit plump like his father but also has taken interest in the sword and lance.

"My newest, Loras, is only six months along." She smiles sweetly speaking of him. "A beautiful baby though, very sweet."

"Is he still at Highgarden as well?" Alys inquires. She wonders how that would feel, to have three children but be so separated from them.

"Yes," Alerie nods, a small bit of solemnness in her eyes but she smiles regardless. "I look forward to when he can come to court, Mace intends to have him brought here once everything in the area is dealt with."

The rebellion she means, though it was still never acknowledged as such. "Three boys then? Very lucky there." She comments, shifting the subject away from it.

"Yes," Alerie laughs, "so my good-mother says as well." She sips from her wine before stating, "I'm hoping very much that the next is a girl, boys are good especially for the first few but a girl would be quite a nice change."

Alys nods, reaching forward for some new treat as Alerie moves onto a different topic with one of the other girls. She's chatting away when one of her guards comes up with a sealed letter. Alys glimpses the sigil of a rose and watches as she opens it and reads quietly.

"Mina, dear, from Mace." She calls out to her good sister. The other ladies around them get up and move away, something Alys follows in, though she only moves a few steps away to the edge of the balcony, keeping in close enough distance that she can hear Alerie's quiet and quick voice reading to Mina.

It's not entirely easy to make out, but Alys hears enough bits and pieces to know that battles were fought in the Stormlands. Summerhall, or somewhere near there. But she also could just make out that Mace Tyrell was leading his own army towards Robert Baratheon's.

More fighting. War in the Seven Kingdoms. Something easy to forget here, secluded away with music and laughter and drink. Alys looks out at a few lazily floating ships and wonders how large it will all get. How long it will go on. She feels a sharp pang of worry for her brothers. Would they both be south, fighting in this war? No, a Stark must always be at Winterfell, Benjen would have stayed behind. Safe.

She waits several minutes, sipping the last of her wine and watching the ships float along the water, before she excuses herself. Thanking Alerie completely for her company and invitation, and thanking her again for the dress. Alerie and Mina both give her tight hugs and smiles, informing her that she was welcome to call upon either of them at any time, and that she was welcome to their lunches whenever she wished.

Alys nods politely before turning and catching Jaime's eyes, nodding for him to escort her out the garden.

"Enjoy your afternoon?" he inquires, though his voice is only half-interested. "Gossiped away the day?"

"It was pleasant," she replies, though she feels quite floaty now, disconnected from her words. "I would like to go to the Godswood, if that is alright with you?" She glances over at him to see him nod. He knows the way around better than her and leads them along until she recognizes the familiar paths and scenery about them.

"I assume then; you've heard the news from the Stormlands?" He inquires as they approach the heart tree. She pauses before it, and glances back to see him studying her. "I assume you will be asking me questions about it?"

"I… do you mind answering them?" She sits upon a nearby bench and he wanders to join her. "What happened?"

"Robert Baratheon called his banners, and like Gulltown and the Vale I suppose not every lord there was willing to put their necks on the line against a king who isn't considered the most…"

"Sound of mind?" she finishes.

"Yes, well three supposedly prominent lords, not that I remember who. Were going to all meet to march against him." Alys looks towards the tree, spotting a bird hopping about its branches, "I suppose that failed, because Baratheon fought three battles according to what I heard when I broke my fast this morning. And he won each one." She can feel his eyes on her, studying for her reaction but she just watches the bird move about.

"So he can march north now? To meet with Jon Arryn and my brother?" She inquires softly, following as the bird lands gently on the ground.

"Yes. He's doing just that."

"But Mace Tyrell is going to meet his army."

"That would make sense, he's well positioned to cut Robert off before he could reach them."

Alys hums to that before standing quietly and going to kneel lightly before the tree. Jaime seems to take the hint, standing himself and moving over to his usual spot of choice. She doesn't know quite what she wants to pray for at the start. She still has little news of what her brothers are doing. But still, she prays for their safety and health. She knows even less of her sister, and prays that she is well and safe and returns from wherever she is soon. She prays that Robert Baratheon makes it past the Tyrell army and joins her brother with ease.

She prays that her brothers know she is safe for now.

She prays that her days go by easily.

She prays that she doesn't see another person burn, and instead can live in a small world of denial where her biggest worry is about a southern dress.


	8. Settling in and Marching Forward

**_Alys_**

It was warmer in Kings Landing the last week than Alys imagines it has ever been in Winterfell her whole life, perhaps ever even. She enjoys the days with either the Tyrell ladies in the gardens or Aleah wandering about the castle. It seems her seclusion to her room has all but disappeared, with no one protesting her joining of the common court life around the keep.

She enjoys her time much more, finding the company of others intoxicating after weeks of near solitude. And she enjoys the heat and sun, more than she would've thought. After Alerie's dress she finds herself some more conservative southern style dresses, provided by Aleah, in her wardrobe. The fabric light and airy, and over the weeks her skin gaining a soft tan upon it that she'd never had before. Enjoying the weather so much that when Jaime is her guard she insists that they play their game of chess out in the garden where they can sit with the sun shining upon them and a salty breeze coming up from the water.

Despite his initial claims of being awful at it, Jaime fared better in their games than Alys had expected. He was already better competition then Lyanna has ever been, a fact Alys informs him of after their most recent game. It was the closest one he'd come to beating her.

"Well your sister must have been horrific at it then," he remarked, leaning back in his seat after the last move.

"You are far too harsh on your skills Ser," Alys laughs, "but yes, Lyanna was pretty horrific." She preoccupies herself with resetting the pieces before her. "She would always get frustrated and often left before the game even finished." She smiles, and can feel Jaimes eyes drift over her. "It was, is, one of the few things I was always better at. Well, pretty much anything that required sitting still for long periods of times I fared better at."

"Oh?" he inquires sitting back up, "I'll be honest, I've heard quite a lot of gossip surrounding your sister since Harrenhal." He leans forward upon the table and Alys glances momentarily up from the board to meet his curious green eyes. "I haven't been sure what's true or not. Several things contradict."

"Like?" Alys asks after a moment. She looks back down at the pieces. She wasn't sure she actually wanted to hear the rumors surrounding Lyanna. She was certain they wouldn't be the most favorable considering Rhaegars crowning of her in front of Elia Martell and the more recent travesty of them both disappearing, a debacle that has resulted in deaths and rebellion.

And it seems Jaime had not actually expected her to inquire further. Perhaps he'd expected she'd simply state what Lyanna had actually been like, with no questions about the gossip that has floated around her sisters' name since they'd first entered the frame of southern talk with their introduction at Harrenhal.

But, and Alys is both thankful and not, Jaime only pauses a second before speaking. "Most has simply been that she is, well, outgoing is the nicest word." He leans back again, reaching for his glass of wine and sipping from it before continuing, "challenging and provocative are some others." Alys moves for her own glass, listening carefully while feeling Jaimes eyes study her fiercely. "When the court returned to Harrenhal, save of course Elia who left for Dragonstone, the gossip was that Lyanna was gearing for a position as the next kings' mistress. That she had tempted the dragon prince at Harrenhal."

"That's ridiculous." Alys interrupts, looking up quickly to Jaime who holds his hands up in defense.

"It's just what was being said," he informs her gently. "Others said Elia was in on it, that she was the one who put the idea in both Rhaegar and Lyanna's minds in hopes of controlling whoever became his mistress."

"Why would she do that?" Alys questioned, it was a ridiculous theory. As ridiculous as Lyanna intentionally seducing the prince.

Jaime shrugs, "Her first birth was harsh, and the second pregnancy was not fairing her any better at that point. The fear that Rhaegar would want more children and have to look elsewhere could be motive enough."

"No," Alys protests, "Elia looked as shocked as everyone, well, she covered it better than most but she was certainly not expecting what Rhaegar did at Harrenhal."

"From the bits I've heard and seen of her she didn't seem the type." Jaime agrees.

Alys nods before taking a sip of her wine, "Lyanna was outgoing, and challenging." Alys informs him after a few moments of contemplation. "She hated the standards put upon her that she had to be some lady for a lord and rule a household and marry whoever she was told." She picks one of the queens and places it carefully in its spot. "She always kept up with the boys, she learned how to ride like them and was better than any of our brothers. Then she pretty much forced them to let her learn how to swing a sword, she would not take no for an answer even when mother and father forbade it." Alys smiles, thinking of all the times Lyanna came back late at night to their room with bruises from sparring against Ned, "She made Ned and Benjen both teach her out in the Godswood after dinner."

"I thought I heard something about a tourney sword and a Stark girl going against some squires at Harrenhal before I left… and here I was thinking it was you." He smirks at her and Alys replies with a laugh and shake of her head.

"No, not me, I don't know that I could do that." Alys laughs, "but Lyanna, well she saw a few of them picking on Howland Reed. She chased them off pretty fiercely. And got even more retribution later." Alys pauses with realization, but Jaime doesn't press further on it.

"She hated that father was making her marry Robert Baratheon." Alys admits, "she didn't want to marry someone because she was told to."

"Not the most proper lady," Jaime remarks.

"No, well she could be when she wanted. And it wasn't like she was trying to be a boy." Alys tells him, "she loved music and dancing and stories about knights and princesses. Though I think she always wanted to be both the knight and princess." Alys sets her glass down, "she didn't want to marry Robert because she didn't believe he'd ever truly love her. She wanted that, true love like was always sung about. Before we'd even met Robert and they were betrothed it didn't take long to learn he already had a bastard in the Vale." She remembers when Lyanna had made those complaints, late in bed at Riverrun curled up facing each other. "Ned and I both tried to comfort her worries, Ned believed that Robert would shape up upon marriage. Though after I met him myself I worried that was just Ned believing the best of his friend."

"Yes, I've heard a rumor or two about Roberts affinity for ladies." Jaime had recalled some Vale lord complaining of it months back, before any of this had begun.

"I even asked my father if Lyanna could be released from it, offered to take her place to marry Robert." Alys confesses. "I didn't tell anyone, just asked father once. He said no. For one Robert had fallen quite smitten with Lya after first meeting her at Harrenhal and would possibly take offence at it being changed. Then I figured he had other plans for me, though I don't know what."

"No betrothal for you yet?"

"No," Alys shakes her head, "at least not that I had heard." She sighs, "a part of me wondered if he wanted to keep me for last, I was closest with him." She frowns and takes another quick drink. "I would always sit with him in his solar while he worked. I even helped him with the ledgers after mother passed. I like to think a part of him didn't want me to ever leave." She presses her mouth into a thin line before shaking her head. "What about your family? You haven't spoken of them much. If I'm honest I've only heard fleeting stuff myself about them."

"Oh?" he laughs, "now I'm the curious one. I can presume some of what you might have heard. My brother the imp, my father who shits gold and my twin who my father intended for Rhaegar himself."

"I had heard bits and pieces of all that." She states, "when I lunch with the Tyrell girls and you're not my guard they are quick to gossip about house Lannister." She looks over at him and studies him. "Tell me about your sister. I've heard she's quite beautiful."

A soft look appears on Jaimes face at that, but he covers it quickly with a shrug, "yes well, we were quite identical until certain developments got in the way. So of course she's as beautiful as I am handsome." He says it with a smug smile that draws a chuckle from Alys. But the queer look still lingers behind it and Alys wonders if he misses his twin as much as she hers. "Cersei was always the brighter out of us two, and quick to state so." He laughs lightly, strained almost, "she was a bit like your sister in some areas I suppose, hated that at a certain age I got a sword and all she got were more expectations around her being a proper lady. Though I don't think she really wanted to learn to swordfight, it was more the principal of the thing. But if she'd tried to learn the sword father would have locked them all away or sent her off somewhere far from us all…" He pauses, a bitter look flashing in his green eyes. "I suppose he did, I was sent away as a ward and he came here with her." He shakes his head, "worked out I suppose, she is the shining example of a proper Lannister lady, at least when she is anywhere but with me."

"Do you miss her a lot?" Alys asks with gentleness in her voice.

"Very," he nods, pursing his lips. "But there is not much to be done about that at the moment, what with a life oath sitting upon my shoulders." He sighs and looks away.

"Well," Alys offers a small smile, "I hope to someday get the honor to meet her."

He barks out a laugh but quickly shakes his head and moves on from it. "Any other questions of my family."

"Oh well," she smirks, "plenty. Let's walk back to my rooms and you can tell me of your brother on the way."

She listens as he tells her about his brother Tyrion. Laughing along where appropriate and smiling over at Jaime when she notes the softness that arrives in his voice when speaking of him. It's different then when he was talking of Cersei, but softness all the same. They are still traveling the garden paths when they come across another group. Alys pauses, blinking for a moment as she recognizes Alerie walking alongside a woman she'd seen but never met.

Jaime stops them to the side and gives a small bow, Alys following quickly with a curtsy herself. She had only ever seen the queen from afar, at Harrenhal and then briefly at the Kings tourney near two weeks ago. Where Aerys looked a far cry from what a king should look, frail and mad, Rhaella held herself tall despite it all. A stoic sort of quiet to her was what Alys had noted at both previous sightings, mindful of her position as queen and fitting to the title with her long white hair and piercing eyes. She fit the role of queen as well as Alys recalled Rhaegar looking to fit the title of prince.

"Ser Jaime," She smiled, polite and collected towards a knight of the Kingsguard before her piercing eyes of violet rested upon Alys. "Alys Stark, I apologize for not having made your acquaintance sooner." Her smile is gentle, Alys notes, though it seems only upon the surface. Below the sympathetic eyes and soft smile Alys could see the severity that she'd heard followed a Targaryen. Ruthless. It was how they came to power. Not just the dragons but the fact that they were ruthless with them, against all enemies even ones of their own blood.

The queens smile hid that well, but perhaps Alys was sensitive and on edge to be able to spot it in the queens studying gaze. Eyes looking to see whether she was an enemy to be dealt with or kept close. "I am certain you are too busy, and I not high enough in status to require any apology." Alys replies, doing her best to keep the nerves from her voice, "but it is an honor to meet you now."

"Alerie has told me much of you these last few weeks," the queen remarks. "would you like to walk with us for a turn. I enjoy getting out of the castle walls when the weather is so nice."

"Of course, your grace," Alys replies, though if she were entirely honest and able she would decline. She wants nothing more to run back to her rooms, away from the queen, from any Targaryen truly. It was a new feeling, not fear. She didn't fear the queen, nor did she hate or blame her. What was there to blame her for, she had no control over the king. But still, as she starts in step beside the queen and joins in light and courteous conversation with her and Alerie about the heat that had taken Kingslanding, she finds herself wanting to inch away from the Targaryen queen. The woman who wed a man who has gone mad and bore another who ran off with her sister. The woman tied to two men who've plunged war and death upon the kingdoms.

But Alys forced that all away, smiling along as prettily as she can while the queen spoke back and forth with Alerie about their smallest children. She offers her own piece where she can but can't bring herself much deeper into the conversation. She is grateful when an armored man walks quickly up to their party and bows deeply before the queen.

The man, stood tall once more, is towering in a way that reminds her of Brandon and her father. Tall of stature and built from their skill with a sword the man was knightly. His eyes are framed by freckles and laugh lines and his hair a fiery red. A thick beard frames his lower face as he smiles warmly to the queen.

"Your grace, my ladies." He acknowledges them all.

"Lord Connington," the queen greets, "have you come from the Stormlands."

"Left with my forces after the travesty that was Summerhall," He replies, "was riding to flank Roberts forces when I received his graces summons." Alys watches him, and takes a moment to study his crest so she can recall his name. "I'm on my way to the great hall now if you'd care to join."

Jon, she recalls, Jon Connington. Lord of Griffins Roost and if she recalls what she'd heard he squired alongside and for the prince. And apparently called to court by the king.

The queen agrees to his invitation, and soon they are walking again. Alys glancing back fleetingly at Jaime who nods for her to continue along. Her urge to run back to her room only strengthens as they head towards the great hall. She hopes dearly that it will only be Merryweather leading court and not the king.

She knows before they've even left the gardens that it won't be. She may not yet be fully immersed in court life, but these last few weeks have gotten her involved enough to know that the king is not pleased with his hand. Not since news of Summerhall reached them. Three battles fought by loyalists against Robert Baratheon, and three battles lost.

"I know Lady Alerie," Jon speaks, drawing her from her thoughts, "but I haven't made your acquaintance my lady?" He looks over to her, his pale eyes studying her intensely.

"Alys, Stark my lord." She replies, forcing her voice to be louder than a whisper though all she wants is to slink away as he nods and a knowing look of pity passes his eyes.

"I met your brother Eddard," He says surprising Alys. The only person she spoke about her family with or who spoke about them back was Jaime or Aleah. Others always avoided any mention of any other Stark around her. "Briefly, at a tourney a few years back at Storms End. He was there with Robert." Alys feels acutely aware of all eyes upon her, and she swears she notices Jaime step slightly closer from behind. "I was surprised a bit that despite being raised in the Vale amongst all those knights, and beside the ever boastful Robert that he didn't compete. I suppose I understand it now, I have no clue what to expect from him on the field."

Alys narrows her eyes, studying Jon closely. He doesn't say the words with mocking or humor, just states them plain and simple. No usual signs of double meaning that she was slowly coming to expect in Kingslanding. "Most lords of the north don't understand the frivolity of tourneys and playing at war for sport." She states, forming her words carefully and slowly. Nerves raising the hair on the back of her neck as she keeps her gaze upon him. "They see it as just another southern activity done for show and splendor. A waste of time, one of the older ones said to my father when he let us head south for Harrenhal. Even worse when someone dies because of it."

Jon makes an amused noise of understanding. "I suppose they have a point there. But it is also a way to earn glory when the kingdoms are at peace. How else would new knights be made when there are no wars to be fought."

"Do not get me started on Northern thoughts upon Knighthood." Alys says back quick with a tight smile. She felt utterly on edge talking with him, with the queen watching and as they passed other lords and ladies of the court on their way through the Red Keep to the Great Hall. She felt as though any moment she'd step in the wrong place and fall to a fiery pit below her to be swallowed up.

She's thankful when the queen interrupts upon entering the hall. Excusing them as she heads towards foot of the Iron Throne where Owen Merryweather and the rest of the small council stand huddled. Jon and Alerie bid farewell to Alys as well, heading with the queen and leaving her only with Jaime at her side. "Mind if we stay?" He asks after a few moments of her catching her nerves. "I'm curious what has drawn the king to court, and of course why Merryweather looks as though he's fitting to fill a bath with his sweat." She glances towards him and notes the extreme worry and concern upon his face.

She's going to protest when he adds, "we can leave if it turns south. I just often prefer to hear news first hand rather than through the grape vine of court gossip." She nods and lets him lead her up to the balconies above, the two of them stood against the railing amongst some of the other lords and ladies and watched as the king came out and sat upon his sharp throne.

* * *

As Alys settles into her room for the evening she finds herself full of relief that she hadn't had to watch another man burn.

She can't say she was fond of Owen Merryweather. As, former, Hand to Aerys he should have been the one to put a stop to the kings burning of her father. He should have been the one to keep it from getting anywhere close to that outcome. She felt no kindness towards the man.

But she is glad still that she didn't see the man burn. Some might have wished for it in her position. Seeing the man who should've stopped the death of her father die in the same way might be poetic for some. But Alys would be overjoyed only to never see another man burn. So when the king dismissed him, exiling him and stripping him of land and title, Alys was only relieved.

When he was called before the king the tension within the room rose. It had been common gossip that the king was getting fed up with his hand. But idle gossip turned to fear when faced with it head on. The king had spoken, graveled voice loud despite his age and health, anger and paranoia seeping through his words as he accused and condemned Merryweathers lack of action against the rebellion threat. When the king's words slowed and his breath rasped, the entire hall was left with tight faces and silence that no one but him could break.

Alys hadn't even realized she'd held her breath until it escaped her at the Kings sentence. She also hadn't realized until after Merryweather was being escorted away and Jon Connington stepped before the king that in her apprehension she'd gripped Jaimes hand with her own on the railing.

She'd been reeling from relief when she noticed, moving her hand away and interlacing her own together in front of her while she watched Jon Connington be raised to the position of the Kings Hand. He announced he would be leaving the next day with his men, and a selected retinue of Knights currently still in Kings Landing.

She'd left with Jaime not long after that, walking in silence back to her room in the Maiden Vault. She'd invited him in but he declined, stating that the change of guard would come soon and it would be best if he was outside her door for that.

So she sat alone, slowly undoing her braids and silently wishing that she had a window to look out at the slowly darkening sky. She'd spotted a bit of sunset on their walk over, but had been still left with a mix of relief and leftover nervousness that they'd moved quickly and she was inside before she realized.

She goes to sleep soon, nerves fading and relief still looming. But a small thought, that brings her guilt, crosses her mind as she nears unconsciousness. A question of why Merryweather got to live while her father and brother did not.

* * *

The following day, Alys joined Alerie and Mina along with several other ladies of the court to watch as Jon Connington marched out of the city with his men. It felt odd, watching an army leave to go against her own brother and allies. The others around her were there, wishing the men well whether out of loyalty to the crown or loyalty to a specific knight riding around Jon. But while she didn't will for any of the men marching to die, she had no wishes of support towards them. She hoped instead for them to fail, not die if it can be helped but not reach Robert or Ned or Jon Arryn. She wished, fleetingly, that it was an army marching into the city instead. And at the head of it wasn't the red haired Jon Connington but her brother come to get her away and to find Lyanna.

But it wasn't. So as the last of the army left the gates, she turned towards Aleah and motioned that she was done. The pair left the balcony of ladies and instead wandered aimlessly for a while about the keep. Jonothor Darry followed loosely behind them, paying little mind but to make sure they weren't wandering to far from him.

Eventually the pair returned to her room, leaving Darry out in the hall they settled themselves with a game of chess.

"Is your father fighting in this war?" Alys asks after a few moments of idle conversation. "He's a knight of the reach correct?"

"He is," Aleah states, "so I image he's involved, serving under Lord Tarly I suppose." She moves her piece across the board and returns to writing upon some parchment.

"Is that letter for him?" Alys inquires.

"Yes," Aleah nods, "but I'm sending it first to my sister. She serves the Lady of Horn Hill currently as her handmaiden." Alys hums gently, "it's easier to get a letter there. She'll be able find where to send it better than I could. Plus, since the fighting broke out our letters have been restricted to only certain houses."

Alys nods, moving her own piece and staring at her hands. "I've been writing letters. When I can't sleep I'll write one to Lyanna, or Ned, or Benjen." She admits it quietly. She trusts Aleah, greatly, but she also worries still whether or not the things she says to her is truly kept in confidence. "I usually burn them the next morning. I don't want someone to spot them and think I'm doing something to cause trouble. Most of them are only written about how I am, that I'm safe or what I've been doing." Alys watches as Aleah moves a piece poorly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't…"

"I understand." Aleah states, looking up with a gentle gaze. "You miss them, and it's hard. There's no way around it, you're a hostage and who knows exactly what they've been told."

"It makes me worry." She confesses, "what Benjen or Ned are thinking. Do they think I've been killed like father and Brandon? Or that I'm being held, chained, in the dungeons of the keep…" She pauses, building up a strange thought and courage along with it. "If I wrote one, just saying that I am safe and unharmed to Benjen. Would your sister be able to send it to Winterfell?"

"Alys…" Aleah's eyes shift, warning filling them and Alys shrinks back.

"Never mind." She says quick, "it was a stupid idea. Even if it was only a few words that would be asking you to risk yours and your sisters' life." She finishes the game, taking Aleah's king and moving away. "I'm going to the Godswood, alone… I'm sorry again for even asking." And she leaves Aleah alone in the room, moving quickly through the halls until she's knelt before the southern heart tree and left only with thoughts of prayer to her brothers.

**_Eddard_**

The air is crisp and windy when Ned wakes in the early hours on their travel south from Moat Cailin. They were steadily making their way through the Riverlands, with outriders heading further south for hopes of catching news or sight of Roberts own army marching north to meet them. He spends his mornings walking amongst his own men, stopping at the small fires strewn about camp to greet his men, high lords and their soldiers alike. He'd walk the length of the northern camps until arriving at Jon Arryn's own tent, arriving just before their commanders to talk about their own plans and any news brought in by raven or outrider.

They were only a days march from Riverrun now, and were now stuck waiting for Hoster Tully to ride to meet them at their current camp. Jon had been exchanging letters by raven with the Lord Paramount of the Trident. From what Ned has been told, Lord Tully was open to the alliance and joining their cause. But was still waiting till the three of them were met in person to pledge his official support and truly call upon his banners.

But Ned and Jon felt confident that the old lord of the Riverlands wouldn't be backing out of their deals, not with the rumors of various other lords around the area pulling their own forces together.

A part of Ned worried over it, hoping that Hoster Tully was a man of honor, and wouldn't be one to ride against them unwitting in hopes of favor with a mad king.

Regardless, Ned knew the lord should be arriving soon. He stood, looking down at their maps while Jon spoke to their commanders. His eyes wandered towards the Stormlands, to where the wooden stags stood indicating Robert and his forces camped by Storms End. That was the last they'd heard from Robert. He'd rode back to Storms End following three successful battles at Summerhall and written them upon his return to the keep. He'd kept his own plans written sparingly in case of the letter being intercepted. But the basics of his intentions were for Stannis holding Storms End while he headed North.

As the day went on, Ned felt an odd sense of discomfort with the fact that they weren't marching today. After several days that had consisted of near constant movement save the evening and early morning he felt a jittery sense of self. He filled his day with what movement he could, sparring with several of his lords and men before the arrival of Hoster. As well as reading a letter from Benjen, which primarily consisted of inquiries about their sisters.

Both Jon and him had men out looking for any whisper of Lyanna and Rhaegars positioning. Something that always came back to disappoint Ned, with no news of either of them coming to light. With Alys he wasn't truly sure whether he was more or less comforted in the fact that he knew where she was. A bit of both, he supposed. He was relieved that he knew she was alive, and where she was. But the where was also an issue, kept captive by a mad king that had killed their father and brother left Ned with just as much tossing and turning at night as not knowing a thing about Lyanna's situation.

It was midafternoon when the Tully party arrived at their camp. Hoster riding strong upon his horse with his men flanking around him, their banner flapping above them as they moved through the camp. Ned and Jon greeted the party at Jons tent, welcoming in Hoster and his brother before they fell into discussions.

It went as quick as Jon had predicted it would, only a few hours to work out some details. Ned would marry Catelyn Tully as his brother had been intended to, the wedding would occur within a fortnight at Riverrun. It was also decided that Jon Arryn would also wed when Ned did, to the younger of the two Tully girls. It was through the two marriages that Hoster agreed to pledge his sword and his men to the rebellion. It was as Brynden Tully left to send out the ravens to the Riverlords that a scout entered quickly with news of Robert.

Jon reads the letter aloud to them all. Telling them of Robert falling injured near Ashford during a short battle with forces from the Reach. He had retreated, scattered his forces with commands to go north towards the Riverlands. But he and his men were all pursued, first by the Tyrells and then by Jon Connington of Griffins Roost. Ned gripped the table as he listened, worried over Robert's injuries and that he was separated from most of his men.

"Stoney Sept," Jon states after the letter, "that's where he writes from." Jon glances down at the map before them. "How soon can the men you have closest march?" He looks over at Hoster who studies the map as well.

"I'll send for them now; they will be here within a day. At most two." Jon nods, and with that Tully leaves the two of them stood over the map and a letter.

"I should leave now," Ned states, "the sooner we get there…"

"It will do no good for Robert to stagger our forces arrivals there." Jon interrupts. "Wait for Hosters men, you'll be stronger with more men when you go against Connington and his royalists. If you left now, by the time you arrive he'll have had time to set himself up in the town and fortify it. If you go alone and his force is larger and stronger then we'll risk losing you and your men as well. Roberts best chance is if we go as a united force. He's separated from his men and alone, he can hide in the town."

"And the people there won't give him up?"

"Perhaps they will, or perhaps they won't." Jon states, his voice tense. "But it is Robert, if anyone can get a town to hide him from royalists it will be him." He sighs, running a hand over his face before moving around the table towards the exit. "But you'd better prepare your men to march, and inform them it will be a hasher one than before."

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait! But I hope you all enjoy!**

**feel free to also check out my tumblr at a-song-of-quill-and-feather if you'd like to.**


	9. Quiet Words

**_Jaime_**

Jaime found her sat in her usual spot before the large heart tree. Her head bowed low and hands clasped tightly before her. He doesn't know why he decided to come to the godswood, it was his day off from guarding. He was free to do as he pleased and yet he found himself here after spotting her moving briskly through the halls.

He supposes he should be more conscious of the look Darry gives him when he walks past his position at the small little entrance to the clearing with the tree. But Darry wasn't the brightest of the Kingsguard anyway, and had little interest in spreading gossip if he even thought something interesting about Jaime's presence here with the Stark girl.

"See," he says finally after a few moments of just studying her kneeling form. "The more I see you out here, supposedly praying, the less I actually believe that is what you are doing." She glances up at him, her eyes catching his and he notes a slight wetness to the corners of them that makes him hesitate slightly before continuing. "I mean, I don't think even the High Septon prays quite so often and he's supposed to be the holiest of holy."

"Well," she says, a smile upon her face that seems quite half-hearted to him. "I swear on the old and new that I mostly pray."

"Ah, see it's that mostly that is telling." He moves closer to her and watches her blush.

"I suppose I don't just pray," she concedes looking back to the tree, "but I don't do anything untoward. If I'm not praying I'm just quiet I guess. Or thinking."

"It's certainly a good place to think," he states, "no one to interrupt your thoughts."

"Except for you, of course," she jests. Her eyes flicking back towards him, "but I don't mind."

"Well," he smirks, "even if you did I think at this point you've bullied me out of ignoring you. Thus you must deal with interruptions."

"A small price to pay for a friend here," she smiles, more sincerely, while turning back to look at the tree.

Jaime feels a queer sensation at that. _Friend._ He considers, _damn it. _"Were you thinking just now, or praying?"

"A bit of both." She tells him as she stands, wiping the leaves from her dress before the pair of them move over to the bench to sit. "I was worrying about my brothers. Not just Ned, I know he's at risk every second he's out there fighting a war." Jaime nods along, watching her fiddle with the fabric of her skirt absently. "But also Benjen. I worry about how he fares in Winterfell. If he's holding it together or not. He's the youngest, he's hardly ever had to be the responsible one and now he's left alone in the North, with all his family either dead or missing or fighting a war."

"You don't think he's with your brother?"

"I know he won't be." Alys tells him. "That's a small comfort actually. That he's safe in the north. I'm sure he tried to go with Ned, but he has to be the Stark left in Winterfell." She glances over at him, "it's some old family tradition I suppose. Winterfell was built by Starks, held by Starks, and thus must always have a Stark within its walls."

"Is that something specific for your family? Or is all the north so concerned with others holding their keeps?"

"Specific I think," she smiles before letting any further words that she held at the tip of her tongue fall away. "There are moments where I wish I was the one left in Winterfell. But then I think of how worried I'd be over my brothers both being at war." Her smile falls and her lips press into a small line, "another part of me wishes that I could leave the city, not to go North necessarily. But to look for Lyanna, part of me thinking this could all end if Lyanna and Rhaegar came back."

"That wouldn't solve everything." Jaime replies plainly. "Robert Baratheon would still be angry for the Prince stealing your sister away, your father and brother would still be dead, your other brother still a traitor to the crown." He spoke realistically, an action that usually only leads to more sadness in the Stark girl, but she only nodded with understanding, no sadder than she'd been when he'd come across her in the Godswood.

"And I'd still be a hostage, even if Lyanna and Rhaegar returned they couldn't just send me home." She speaks it rather straight, as though this were all thoughts that had passed her plenty of times before. "But I'd know she's okay." She says the words worriedly, "I'd know where she was."

A dark look fell over her, one that appeared like worry and guilt mixed within her eyes. Jaime couldn't help but ask. "You were traveling with her when she disappeared, correct?"

Her eyes fall to her hands, and she nods. "I keep thinking that there must have been something I could have done." She speaks the words barely over a whisper. "I… I'd woken that evening; it wasn't the first time she'd snuck out from her bed in the middle of the night."

"She snuck away?" Jaime questioned. He kept his own voice low.

"She ran away, I think." Her eyes, grey and like the reflection of a storm on ice, flick over to him. "I haven't voiced this before. I… I knew Rhaegar was nearby. We'd been back at Harrenhal, in the Godswood when we first ran into him. Lyanna asked me to cover for her for dinner." Jaime listened. A part of him, since the news of Lyanna and Rhaegar had reached court, had found trouble with the idea that the Prince would simply steal away a girl. Though another part of him had always reminded him that the Prince had always been reserved, mysterious even when it came to the ideas in his head. "She didn't get back from the Godswood until late in the night, and when she had she was excited. Grinning more than I'd seen her in weeks and quick to tell me as much as she dared to. She told me she wished she could marry him not Robert. I thought it was just her way of daydreaming a world where she could choose her marriage. I didn't expect her to act upon it"

"She ran off with the prince." Jaime clarifies, his voice low as he becomes re-aware of Darry stood some ways off of them. Not to mention anyone else who could be sneaking about, looking for whispers to feed the Spider Varys. There was plenty talk around the Prince and Lyanna, some believed that she was stolen, others had differing views. But Jaime knew it would be best if it wasn't known either way, at least not yet.

"I don't know…" Her voice is strained, and her hand jumps up quickly to wipe a tear off before it can truly fall. "When she'd left that night, I called to her and she told me not to worry after her. I figured that meant she was just going off to see him. Not run away…"

"Hey," Jaime says quickly as she starts to tear up further, more tears falling and her frame shrinking as she curls upon herself. "From what you told me your sister would do as she liked, it is of no fault of yours if she ran off."

"I should've stopped her." Tears fall gently down her cheeks as she speaks, "or I should have told Brandon, maybe if he'd known that he wouldn't have stormed down here and then… then he wouldn't be dead. Then father wouldn't be dead."

Jaime reaches to her. A part of him wants to hold her fully, but he is still aware of the possibility of eyes upon them so he settles with grabbing her hands where they worry upon her lap and his other hand moving to turn her face to him. "There is no point in what you should or shouldn't have done." He speaks firmly. His eyes locked with hers, neither daring to blink. "It won't do anything but cause you grief."

"I already have grief," she says the words so gently they are barely audible.

"Then you don't need any more upon you," he tells her, his green eyes searching her grey for understanding. "Especially none caused by your own thoughts."

"I…" she starts but he shakes his head.

"My brother," he starts, his hand still on hers and their eyes still locked. "I'm sure your aware, is a dwarf. My father loathes him, and my sister easily follows in his steps." He didn't know where he was going, he was just trying to do something to keep her from spiraling further into her grief. "For a long time I've watched him let that hurt him, to the point that he followed in their own hatred. He still hates himself at times, I think. But I told him once what I'm telling you now. You have no control over what hurts you except for what you cause yourself." His hand still lingers on her chin, and he holds it tighter as he says, "So don't bloody hurt yourself." Then he lets his hand drop and her eyes break from his to follow it. After a moment of her staring at their hands he speaks again, "Alright?"

"Okay…" she replies, her eyes shutting and her breathing the only sound in the whole Godswood he can hear.

**_Alys_**

Only a fortnight passed after the departure of Jon Connington and his men when news started to arrive in Kings Landing about the battle at Stoney Sept. It trickled in throughout the course of a day and Alys listened to every bit of it she could for news of her brother.

She was sat with the Tyrell girls eating sweets and listening to a bard play at the harp when one of Aleries guards came with the most news of the events. Alys had seen the man about the place, he was here as a guard to Alerie but wandered the keep in search of gossip, secrets, and news more so than he ever spent his time standing guard for the Tyrells. Alys listened closely as the man told Alerie how the kings hand had fared against the rebels.

"The Baratheon forces scattered a week before his arrival at the sept." Alys had heard that already, from Jaime. During a game of chess the other day he'd told her that before Connington had taken over the chase of Robert from the Tyrells the Baratheon and Stormlander forces scattered to make the chase harder. But Robert was the goal for Connington, so he'd chased him down to the small town around a small sept. "Robert Baratheon hid amongst the folk there, none of them giving up his location to the hand or his men. They still hadn't found him when the Stark and Tully forces arrived."

Alys keeps her face as neutral as she can while she listens to the man. But she feels relief at knowing her brothers' allies have grown. "House Tully declared finally?" Mina asks, looking up from a letter she'd been reading from her husband.

"Yes, my Lady. For the rebels."

"Shame," Alys heard one of the other girls whisper. _No it is not_; she thinks to herself, a small smile playing at her lips that she pushes away with a sip of wine.

"Go on," Alerie motions. "From what I've heard so far the battle was lost."

"Yes, my lady." The guard says, Alys notices his eyes flick to her but she is careful with her expression and instead reaches forward for another small cake to nibble at. "The townsfolk rallied for the rebels, and rung the bells to tell their people to hide away. And our lord Hand was unsuccessful at holding off the rebel forces, he had to call retreat after a while."

"Casualties?" Alerie asks, and now Alys feels her eyes flicker over to her. She didn't know if it was because she too was keeping a close eye on her reactions or if it was because she'd asked for her specifically. Alerie and her good-sister didn't have men at stake in this battle, with the lords of the reach still in the Stormlands and Lord Mace Tyrell beginning his siege on Storms End.

Alerie had been kind to Alys for weeks, caring after her as much as she did the other ladies often around her. But Alys had also grown more aware of the eyes upon her the last few weeks. Perhaps it was simply because she was in a more visible position of late, leaving her room and joining the daily going-ons of court in the Red Keep. Aleah had even warned her, a week back to be careful. That Alerie may be friendly, and may genuinely kind to her; but she was still one of the Queens ladies, and thus was the queens' eyes and ears in the court.

"A few, but far more weighted to the royalists." The guard continued and Alys stood to fetch more wine, but still listening closely as she can. "It's said that the hand was injured, but only slightly, by Robert himself after he'd joined the fighting. Hoster Tully was also injured in the fighting. And Jon Arryn's heir was killed."

"That was his last Arryn heir correct?" Alerie inquires.

"I believe so, yes." The guard says. "Those were the only significant casualties I'd heard."

Alerie nods, and Alys keeps her face neutral as she walks back with her wine. Looking out over water she schools face while all the while she wants to smile at the news. The rebels had won, her brother was safe and unharmed if the lack of his name in the guards casualties meant anything. And she sipped at her wine and listened as Mina brought up some other news she'd heard earlier in the day about Elia Martell being summoned from Dragonstone by the king.

* * *

Walking back to the Maiden Vault was second nature to her by now. She hardly had to think of where her feet were leading her, knowing she'd wind her way there eventually. So instead she surveyed around her. She loved the gardens, as much as she was fond of the Godswood. But unlike the Godswood there was no looming feeling of fear or prayer. The gardens were a place where her worries and anxiousness could be forgotten. The gardens were just an area with sweetness in the air and a sea breeze if you walked at the right hour in the right spot. They were better tended than the Godswood, with more variety to its flora and thus more to look at as she made her way through the paths.

She was halfway back to the Maiden Vault when Aleah came walking down a side path. "Alys," she said, a small surprise to her voice that she covers quick with pleasure to see her. "Enjoying the gardens?"

"Yes, though I was on my way back." She continues, with Aleah now in step with her through the winding paths. "And you? I'd heard you were busy this morning with tasks for the queen."

"I was," Aleah says. She talks about little tasks she'd been sent to run with Alys as they walk. A short way along Alys notices a man she'd seen a few times before walking the paths towards them. He is a plump and bald man with long robes that she'd heard referred to more times than she'd seen him. And most of what she'd heard had been warnings to be careful of him.

But the man, often referred to as the Spider, nods at them as they near. A smile upon his face that seems entirely welcoming, to an almost uncomfortable degree. "Lady Alys, Lady Aleah." He greets them, a smell of lavender seemingly accompanying him as he grows closer.

"Lord Varys," Aleah responds with Alys. The two don't stop, and neither does the Master of Whispers. But Alys does notice her handmaid's eyes linger with the eunuchs, a seemingly secret word spoken between them. And once they've passed the man and some distance gained Alys asks, "have you interacted much with Lord Varys."

"He's not really a Lord," Aleah replies, not answering the question and looking off through the flowers, her face away from Alys's view. "Only little moments, if the queen asks it of me." Alys nods and looks back over her shoulder, but can't spot the man despite the path being long and unwinding behind them. "Do be careful though, Alys." Aleah's eyes fall back over to her, "he isn't the master of whispers because he has a guard who scouts out gossip like Alerie." Her voice is serious, a thing that Alys has learned to take with caution and attentive ears. "His eyes and ears are everywhere, not just the Red Keep or the Capital or even Westeros."

"I've heard," Jaime had mentioned it once, the Spiders 'little birds' were what he'd called them. "I don't have any secrets to spill… not really."

"Sometimes you aren't even aware of what is information is useful to a Spider like Varys." Aleah warns, the two walking in silence for a beat longer before she sighs and laces her arm with Alys. All seriousness of the moment before lost and instead she smiles "how about some chess when we return to the room. I'm free from the queen the rest of the day and left only to you."

"I'd be happy to…" Alys returns the smile, but feels hers falls short to Aleahs. She's brought back to a few weeks back in her head, soft words spoken with Jaime in the Godswood. He'd kept them quiet, and she could recall his eyes searching about them both as they spoke. _What information is useful, _she wonders, _perhaps in a place like this all information is._

* * *

"Your brother is marrying the eldest Tully girl," Aleah informs her after they've sat at the little table with Alys's chess board. "Part of the deal made between the Rebels and House Tully, for him to honor the engagement made before this all started."

Alys nods though she frowns down at the pieces before her. "I figured as much would happen… I can't start to imagine the way that must feel to Ned." She couldn't really imagine how any of it must feel to Ned. "For one he's never met her. And then he's marrying someone who if all of this hadn't happened would already be his good-sister."

"Did you know her?" Aleah asks, moving the first piece.

"I did, not terribly well." Alys says, "but Lyanna and I stayed at Riverrun for near a month with Brandon. He was there to meet and get to know his wife to be, and we were there to see the south and because we were going to Harrenhal soon." She remembers Riverrun, fondly. She'd liked the smaller castle, the rivers around it were a gentle sound that she easily laid beside with Lyanna and she had liked seeing her eldest brother courting a girl he'd actually be married to. He'd grown fond of her in the few months he'd been there, Alys had been able to tell as much. The thought now made her worry again for Ned. As well as for Catelyn Tully, who she recalled also had been growing steadily fonder of her betrothed before they'd left for Harrenhal. She can't imagine the months following Harrenhal had done anything but strengthen the growing affection each had earned for the other. "She's kind." Was all Alys managed, her mind far too distracted by new worries for her brother, worries that had not a thing to do with his health and safety but entirely with his chance for happiness.

Aleah talks some more, but Alys finds it hard to put much interest into conversation, or into the game of chess before them. They're only half-way through when Aleah sighs and puts the piece she was about to move back and stands. "Have you any letters?"

"What?" Alys glances up, distracted by a memory of Ned and Ashara Dayne dancing at Harrenhal. Her brother had been smitten there, and she had mentioned it to their father in a letter after they'd left. All in hopes that her father would arrange a marriage there, all in hopes of helping her brother find some happiness and love.

"Letters? You said you'd written to your brothers."

"I burn them after," Alys says, watching as Aleah walks to the small writing desk in the corner of the room.

"Would you like to write to them," Aleah glances over her shoulder to Alys, brows raised and Alys wonders a second if this was a test by the queen that her handmaid was tasked to put her to. "To Benjen, or I suppose you could write to Ned as well if you wish. My sister can try to send it along to either Riverrun or Winterfell."

"I…" Alys stays planted in her seat, and looks wide-eyed at Aleah for some sign of the truth. "I shouldn't, you said…"

"I didn't actually say anything about it," she was pulling out paper and a quill with ink.

"You didn't have to," Alys stands, slowly and hesitantly and not moving an inch closer. "The way you looked and sounded when I'd asked was warning enough."

"Well," Aleah states, "there's no harm if we are careful. Of course, I'll read and approve what you write. Can't have you writing anything that could be construed as treason if the letter is found, and I have a better eye for that than you."

"I don't know…" Alys steps slowly forward, watching closely as Aleah arranges the desk. "Why did you change your mind?"

"Alys," the handmaid's eyes flick up from the papers to her. "Because I worry that if you don't let them know you'll alright you'll end up spiraling yourself into a hole of worry."

"But if it's found out…"

"I'm careful," Aleah's eyes flash with confidence and she holds out the quill, "let me worry about the letters and how they get where they need. You just write."

Taking the quill gently in hand she finally sits at the desk, staring down at the parchment and at a sudden loss for words to her brothers.

Aleah stands over her only a second before moving back towards the chess board, she sits and fiddles with the pieces while Alys stares at the blank paper and thinks. She writes, slowly and delicately _Benjen_ at the top of the paper. She's slow in her writing, methodical in what words she puts and slowly the page fills. She doesn't write much about the King or Queen, doesn't really write anything about either. She writes about her safety in the capital. She writes about how she spends most her days, who she spends her days with. She writes, several times, that she is safe and well. She hopes the words hold the meaning, that her brother doesn't try to see deeper in the letters that are so precise in order to keep them from looking shaky. She writes to Benjen about her life here, about her safety, and her worries over his own.

When she finishes she sets it aside to let the ink dry. She pulls the second piece of parchment that Aleah had laid out and writes a new letter, the top addressed with _Ned_ and her hand writing slower as she has to try harder to keep her nerves from reading across the letters. She doesn't write as much about Kings Landing here, only a short piece on her safety and wellness. The rest of the letter focuses on him, expressing her worries and assurances regarding his new position as Lord Stark. She writes about Catelyn, telling him what she can to get across that he is allowed to feel worried about the match. Worried about his new position, and his new engagement, and his new life path.

She hopes he takes her words to heart, she hopes he hears her voice through the black ink and she hopes it comforts him as much as she wants it to


	10. A Wedding in Riverrun

**_Catelyn_**

Catelyn cannot recall a time when Riverrun was as bustling as it had been the last few days. The whole castle preparing for the return of the rebels and the wedding that would coincide with their return.

Two more days, that was what Catelyn had heard last. Two days until the arrival of her father, her uncle, and her new betrothed.

_"You'll marry Eddard Stark now." Hoster had told her. He'd said it firmly, but his eyes had been softer than his voice, watching her closely for reaction. "Your sister will wed Jon Arryn alongside you."_

Catelyn didn't know whether she or her sister were looking forward to the day less. She would do her duty, so would Lysa even if the younger girl did pout and rave the whole time about it. But Catelyn still mourned Brandon. She still missed his laugh and the gentle kiss he had given her before riding out. It stung her lips like a ghost whenever she thought of that day. He had been happy that day, his grin wide and his voice loud and booming as he bid goodbye.

He'd only been meant to go meet his sisters and then his father.

Then he was gone. The last correspondence Catelyn had received was a letter from him, apologizing for delaying the wedding and explaining he was heading south for his sister. She still had the letter, tucked away in her room under the books on her desk.

She should get rid of it, lest her betrothed found it when he joined her room.

She didn't know Eddard Stark. She'd met the other brother, Benjen, and the sisters. But Eddard had been in the Vale still, far from her mind and far from her.

But now he was all that occupied her mind. Wondering, worrying. How did he compare to Brandon? Was he handsome as his brother? Loud and bold as him?

No… Brandon had spoken a bit of Eddard. He'd called him the 'Quiet Wolf'. Compared him to his sister Alys, who Catelyn had met.

She forced herself to stop thinking about this all and focused instead on wandering the halls of Riverrun. She checked with kitchens for the feast, and with the castles Steward to be sure the rooms were all prepared for the guests who would be in them. Running Riverrun came second nature to Catelyn. She hardly had to think on it, she knew every member of the household and where everything was within it. She knew every nook and cranny in the stone walls of the keep. She knew it better than she knew anything in her life. And she knew she would miss it terribly.

Brandon and his sisters had told her of Winterfell. Alys especially had shared her knowledge of the old northern keep, and had sworn to Catelyn to help with the household when they returned to it until she herself left for marriage. It had comforted Catelyn, Alys's own seeming understanding of it mimicking her own of Riverrun. The pair had both lost a mother young and rose to the position that had been left clear by it.

But Alys wasn't here. If she was Catelyn is near certain the girl would be comforting her concerns about Eddard. Smiling prettily and genuinely while telling her nice things about her brother.

But Alys wasn't here. And so Catelyn forced herself to focus on things other than the Starks who she would and wouldn't be with.

* * *

The day the rebels returned Catelyn spent most of the morning waiting up on the battlements. She woke before dawn, rising and dressing slowly. She'd been torn about dressing in her nicest dress to greet them. It felt a betrayal to dress fine for Eddard, but she did it all the same. _He's your betrothed now_, she'd reminded herself as she combed out her hair.

She avoids the dress she'd worn the day she'd met Brandon.

Standing upon the battlements she watches the horizon as she had plenty of times before when her father had ridden off. She pulls a cloak tighter about her with the morning air chilling her to her core. Or perhaps it was a ghost, a warning of her future in the north. She recalls faintly the warmth of Brandons hands before shaking it away and moving closer to the brazier lit nearby.

She spots them even before the guards. Horses cresting over a hill with banners of Tully, Arryn, Baratheon, and finally Stark. Her eyes linger on the wolf design longer. Could she be a wolf? _I'll always be a Tully._ She thinks firmly to herself, _but I can be a wolf as well._

She scans the men at the front as they grow nearer, recognizing her father first. He's sat slightly hunched, she knew he'd been injured during the battle, but his letter had written his recovery to be well. Beside him it is easy to spot her uncle, a small bit back but sat tall and speaking with a man beside him. Her eyes linger on the man, he's older than her father perhaps. Jon Arryn, she believes, Lysa's betrothed. He wasn't unhandsome, just old. Beside him is two younger men. Eddard and Robert, she's sure, leant towards each other and words unheard so far away spoken. She can't tell which is which from the distance, but they're growing much closer that she turns away and heads down the battlements to the courtyard to join the rest of the household where they await the return of their lord and allies.

She meets Lysa there, her sister's face an ever-present scowl since news of her marriage had been announced. "Did you see them?" She whispers as Catelyn reaches towards Edmure and pulls him along with them to the front of the gathered household and guard.

"I did." Catelyn states turning to her brother and straightening his cloak while he waves her away with a scowl of his own.

"And?" Lysa whines putting a hand on Catelyns shoulder to draw her attention back to her.

"And, he's handsome." Catelyn tells her. "Jon Arryn was handsome, and looked tall, and…"

"Old." Edmure muses, a smirk upon his face that earns a smack on the arm from Lysa. "OW!"

"Edmure, Lysa. Please behave." Catelyn warns firmly. She looks back to her sister and sighs in sympathy, "Lysa he's old yes. But he's handsome and you'll be the Lady of the Vale." Lysa pouts, but doesn't speak further as they turn to stand straight while the gates open and the bridges lower to welcome the returning rebels.

Their father rode through first. He sat straighter riding into the courtyard than she'd seen him in the distance, his face a stone wall to any of his thoughts. But Catelyn could see the twitch of pain as he climbed down from the horse, passing it off to the squire and moving towards the three of them. Behind him Jon Arryn came, flanked by the two who had been his wards for years and now led a rebellion with him.

Closer to them she could differentiate them easier now. Robert was tall, handsome with a beard grown and the hearty size of a man who fought with the war-hammer still tied to his horse. His armor was emblazoned with the stag of his house. Eddard was shorter, his beard less full on his face and plainer to the face than his friend, his worn leather armor holding a simply stitched direwolf on it.

Catelyn continued to study Eddard as he swung down from his own horse, his eyes scanning the crowd of people before landing on her. She swore a blush came to his cheeks before his attention was drawn away from her by Robert. She looked away as well, turning to her father who stood before them now. She closed the difference between them as quickly as was lady-like.

"I was glad to hear your recovery father," She tells him, holding him like the child she felt and swearing she saw a comforting smile cross his face at her.

"Was only a scratch on the side," he assures her, a hand resting on her shoulder and the soft eyes she's learned were reserved for her and her siblings watching her. "Is the castle prepared for the evening?"

"Yes," she tells him, "the kitchens are already cooking the feast and the sept has been prepared." The others are joining around her father. Her eyes flick towards her betrothed so she adds quickly, "So has the Godswood."

"Good," Her father appraised. "But for now we need to rest a bit." He looks towards the others, "Utherydes will have you all shown you to your rooms." He dismisses them all with a nod, turning himself and heading towards his own rooms. Catelyn walks with Lysa as they all depart from the courtyard. Her eyes following the form of Eddard as he follows slowly beside Robert.

* * *

She enters her father's solar not long after their arrival. He's alone, looking over papers on his desk. "I've kept up with the records as necessary. Took note of the food and wine and ale that would be used today." She tells him.

"I was never worried about that." He looks up from the papers and smiles at her. "How is Lysa faring?"

"Frustrated and moving about with a constant frown on her face," Catelyn jokes with a laugh, "but she'll do as she's told."

"Good," he says looking back to the papers about him. "And you?"

She pauses, biting her lip and moving along to the window she loved to sit at most. "Fine… I understand the reasons and will do as I'm bid."

"He's a good man," her father informs her. But he says no more to assure her, though she feels his eyes linger upon her. She just sits at the window and watches out past the walls of Riverrun as tents began to rise. She sat like that for near an hour before Maester Vyman arrives with a bundle of letters in his hand from the ravens in his rookery.

"Cat," her father called to her, drawing her eyes from the swaying flags of wolfs and fish out in the distance and instead to him motioning her over. "Will you take these to Lord Stark. From what Vyman heard he's out in the Godswood." She takes the two letters delicately in her hands and leaves with a nod to her father. Examining the seals as she walks the halls towards the Godswood. The first one holds a direwolf sigil, albeit the wax slightly sloppily pressed. The second is just wax, pressed shut with no seal identifying it coming from any specific house.

She arrives to the Godswood and slows her own pace. She hadn't interacted with him yet, barely even locked eyes with him and now she was to hand him letters. An action that would involve speaking to him more than she'd realized as she passes beneath the first of the redwoods. She walks slowly, savoring the peace of the wood and wonders how the northern Godswood of Winterfell will compare. She doesn't imagine it will be as sweet a place. Nor as warm to her skin as she walks under the red leaves and over the slowly trickling streams. It will be a place for the old gods, not a place where the only sign of them is the tree at the center.

It's at that tree that she finds Eddard Stark. Knelt before it with his head lowered. She watches him a moment, stopped in her tracks and studying him in a way she hadn't before. His kneeling form is so still it reminds her of a statue, the boy all stone. It was a stark difference from his brother, ever moving and never quiet. She can't recall seeing him at the weirwood when he'd stayed here. Perhaps he had, just not when she was around to see.

"My lord," she calls after what was likely far too long a time to watch her future husband praying. "Some letters came for you."

He glances back at her, a bit of surprise on his face but he shakes it off and stands quickly. "My lady," he says, striding towards her.

He was only the smallest bit taller than her. _Shorter than Brandon_, she thinks faintly. She hands the letters over and watches him glance at them both, his eyes studying the seals. She stands still, unsure whether to leave in that moment or to say something.

_He's to be my husband_, she thinks, _say something_.

"I hope that your room is to your liking," is the first that pops to her head. When he glances up at her, a brow raised she recalls something that makes her blush more than she'd like. "Though, uh, I suppose if you don't it's only until this evening."

"I'm sure wherever I end up will be fine." He says, his voice tense as he grew flush as well. Though the beard he had growing in covered the redness better than she could. "I suppose though; I should get myself cleaned up for tonight. I came straight here after we arrived."

"Oh," she says, she glances about the small clearing. "Would you like me to escort you back to your room?"

"If you'd like my lady," He said it timidly, as unsure about it all as she. As they start back to the keep she struggles to not think of Brandon's boldness and how his brother was lacking the same kind. 

**_Eddard_**

He sits in the room he'd been given to get ready in and stares down at the letters before him. He'd set them aside upon arrival to the room, focused on cleaning the dirt and grime from himself that near two weeks of travel had brought. As he sat to settle his nerves he pulled the letter from Winterfell to read. Breaking the seal he saw Benjens scattered writing and scanned it half-heartedly.

The largest takeaway from the letter was the news of Maester Walys' death. A fever had taken the elderly maester a few weeks back, and the poor man had not recovered. _Another death, another member of my home gone_. Ned sets the letter aside, Walys had written the Citadel before his death, as had Benjen. A new Maester would be coming north soon enough to replace Walys in Winterfell.

Looking back at the second letter he examined the seal. It was plain, no indication of where it came from to warn him whether the news would be bad or good.

He slid his thumb beneath the wax and broke it open. As his eyes landed upon the neat letters his breath caught and his heart dropped.

_Ned_,

He stared at it. His name written so precisely and delicately. Written in a hand he recognized from years of letters arrive in the Vale for him. He blinks the tears that threatened his eyes and read on.

_I write in secret. Thus I ask you not return a letter. Though I am unsure if you would even be able to. I write in hopes of calming your nerves as well as my own. I am safe. If you worry for my safety, please know I am unharmed and am likely to stay that way so long as they hold me as their hostage. I am keeping myself busy, and out of trouble. I try to keep myself as happy as one can be in the situation I find myself. Try not to worry over me_.

He blinks, a tear escaping his eye and falling to the ink. He sits back, shutting his eyes to the world and the letter while he lets it all sink into him. Safe, she tells him. She tells him to not worry, but he is unsure if he could manage that even if he wished.

He sits back up, opening his eyes and looking back to the letter.

_I'm let around the court enough that I can hear of the war. A few months back I was left to rely only on a guard and my handmaid. I worry so much over you that I imagine I've written near a hundred letters in the night. None of them sent but this one of course. It helps my nerves to hear of your own safety around the court, though I hide my joy at it. I need you safe._

_I also want you happy._

_I heard of your wedding. Or the wedding to be. I am hoping this will reach you before you wed Catelyn. I hope that you know it is alright to feel whatever you are feeling at this moment. I can't claim to know completely the feelings you have around this, let alone around all the changes that have come to you. But I hope you believe me when I say I understand that it must be hard. Brandon died so recently and with father as well. It forced you into a position you never expected, a position that was to be Brandons but he never got to step into himself. I know that it must all be so hard on you. And adding his former betrothed must only add to the grief and confusion you must be feeling._

_But I hope you know that Brandon would not want you feeling guilty over this. He would understand the reasons for it and he would want you to keep moving on. Even if that was with someone he was originally meant for._

_I don't know if this will help. But Catelyn is a good woman. She was kind to me and will be a good wife, and a good lady of Winterfell. I know it will be awkward. Hard beyond the normal difficulties of marrying someone you hadn't met before. I know it will be hard to move past the shadow of our brother, but someday it might not be so big a shadow and you will feel no guilt for any love you and Catelyn achieve._

_I write you good blessings for your wedding and your marriage. I pray that you fare well in health and safety in the coming weeks._

_With all my love,_

_Alys_

Ned stares at the letter for quite some time. Rereading it over and over until he can't any longer. He stares at it then, just looking at the words, looking at the sign of his sisters safety.

He's still staring at it when Robert comes to his room to take him to the Sept.

* * *

Ned feels as though he's held his breath the entire evening.

He's tense throughout the ceremony in the Sept. From when he's stood with Jon Arryn to his left while Hoster Tully escorted both his daughters to them and through the smaller bit before the weirwood, just him and Catelyn with some witnesses. He did actually hold his breath as he swung the Stark cloak around Catelyn's shoulders, it almost heavier in his hands than the sword he uses in battle. He only released it when Catelyn turned once more to face the Septon, a flush of air escaping him as he stands as tall as he can. He knew little about the ways of a southern weddings, having only seen one once in the Vale and he'd only been twelve at the time.

Despite this he fared alright in the ceremony in the Sept. Speaking where required and following the suit of Jon when he was unsure.

The ceremony before the weirwood brought a strange comfort to Ned after the one in the Sept. There were less words that threatened to be forgotten, less hymns and prayers to gods he doesn't follow. There were less people about them as well, only a few northern lords, as well as Robert and Hoster Tully. When he knelt before the gods of his childhood and future he felt not only the eyes of the old gods upon him but his sister, with the words of her blessings and prayers coming to his mind as he rose again.

He escorts Catelyn back to the Great Hall, where the feast was beginning and music could already be heard drifting through the tall redwood trees. She holds his arm lightly as they walk, and he wonders not for the first time since his arrival in Riverrun whether he should say something to her. He knows he should. She was his wife, they couldn't not talk together. He wishes faintly that Alys were here, to help him decipher what was best to say to his new lady wife.

Upon their arrival in the hall the sound of clapping and praise falls down on them while they walk to the high table where Lysa and Jon were already sat. Robert claps Ned on the shoulder before disappearing into the tables full of drinking and feasting.

Sat at the head of it all Ned felt awkward as he reached for his wine. Out of place as he often felt the last few months. Feeling to him as if he were sitting in Brandons spot and his brother would come through the crowd and tease him till he left it. But as Ned's eyes scanned the feast below his brother was not sat amongst the other lords.

He was unsure how to act here. Sneaking a small glance over to Catelyn he studied her a moment.

She was beautiful. But he didn't like to think that outright. It felt wrong, all of it still so new that it was as though he were thinking it of his brothers betrothed not his own wife. It added to the guilt he held already, the guilt of being the living brother.

Though he isn't sure that it would feel any less guilty if she were foul looking.

But she was beautiful. Long auburn hair that was braided simply for the wedding and caught the firelight in a golden way that Ned could stare at for hours. Blue eyes that lit up when talking with her sister or her father or her brother and her uncle. Eyes as blue as the sky and a smile that looked like the sun when he spotted it.

She smiled at him, but it wasn't the same as he saw her give to her family. It was courteous and nice but not because he deserved it.

_He wants to deserve it and he hates that he wants that as badly as he does._

He drinks another hearty bit of wine before looking out at the feast once more. His mind wandering to another feast over a year ago. Another beautiful woman who he'd wanted so badly. And a dance that he almost hadn't had if it weren't for his brother.

Guilt was a horrid feeling.

_I hope you know that Brandon would not want you feeling guilty over this._ Alys's words float back to his head as he finds himself caught between a memory and the moment.

"My lady," he speaks, his voice harsher than he meant before he breathes and focuses upon softening it. "Would you like to dance?"

Catelyn looks at him, blue eyes like water studying him in a way that made him wish he knew what she was thinking. He had been wishing that all evening.

"Of course, My Lord." She replies, gently taking his hand and following him out to the small floor beside the players, joining the already twirling pairs to the sound of the music. Her hand resting gently on his shoulder while his own moves to the small of her back. He hesitates it only a moment before resting it there. Worry floating through his head that he'll find some way to mess this up.

"I apologize for not asking you earlier," he says as they spin about, her auburn hair flowing with her in a mesmerizing way. "I have never been the best at this sort of thing."

"This sort of thing?" She questions. She lets him lead the dance though he moves slower than he means, nerves adding to his natural worries over dancing.

"Oh, well, dancing, and courting women." He looks down at his feet in hopes of not stepping on hers.

"Well," she says hesitantly. "We're already married so I suppose you can't go wrong." She offers the words in comfort.

"I could," he whispers but shakes it away quickly by saying "but let's not talk on that." He looks back at her and sees her smiling slightly. "Was the wedding okay for you? The ceremonies I mean, I understand it was weird that we did both…" He didn't know whether to look at her or not, their faces close together that if he looked at her that was almost all he could see.

"It was good," her voice held a small chuckle at his question, he supposed it was odd. "And I understand the reasoning. Your gods are of the north, and we'll be living and ruling in the north. It would only make sense that we joined before them." She glanced away a second before her eyes returned to him, "I'm more surprised that you bothered with the ceremony in the sept."

"Those are your gods," he says quickly, "I won't ask you to separate yourself from them just because we are wed." He doesn't add that he'd known the two ceremonies were planned for with Brandon, a fact Alys had relayed when she and Lyanna had visited the Vale.

"Thank you," Catelyn says softly as they slow with the music, it fading away and a few claps for the players ring about them. "Would you like to return to the table?"

"Am I that bad?" he jests.

"You haven't stepped on me," she returns with a smile pulling at her mouth, "but I can tell you haven't danced often."

"Certainly not in a long while," he confesses.

She nods and the two walk together, arm in arm back to the head of the table for the rest of the evening.

The bedding ceremony came, and Ned was a terrible color red in the face for most of it. Escorted to their room by the girls in Riverrun, his clothes being stripped from him the whole way until he was left in the room naked and with an equally bare Catelyn stood before him.

He was about to speak when he heard a rowdy Robert shout something uncouth through the door amongst the rest of the chatter outside it. His face turned a fiercer red which gained a surprising laugh from Catelyn.

"I apologize for Robert."

"Ser Desmond made more bawdy jokes than that, and proceeded to apologize after each one," she laughs again, but her arms still wrap about her form, covering what they can. The two are left silent and looking at the other.

Catelyn glances to the bed then and moves carefully towards it. She settles on the end of it and waits for him to join her.

"Would you believe I haven't before?" He confesses as he moves towards her.

A small bit of surprise on her face answers his question before she can say anything. "I…" she stops herself from saying what had come to mind and instead scoots further back on the bed.

"Wait," he says, pulling her back to the edge and standing between where her legs overhang the bed. "I don't want to do anything that will hurt you… so tell me if…"

"It's going to hurt regardless," Catelyn informs him, "better to get that out of the way quickly."

He pauses a thought crossing his mind that he pushes away with guilt. A thought she seems to hear anyways when she adds, "My mother talked of it a little, before she passed. I'd had my first blood, and she was getting sicker. She told me in case she passed before I wed."

"Oh," he says with a trace of shame. "I apologize if I seemed…"

"It okay." She assures with a gentle look.

Ned sighs and looks at her fully. Her arms are no longer crossed over her body, instead they rest back on the bed keeping herself propped. Ned's eyes trail over her exposed body and his own responds at the sight. "I suppose we should start."

"If you want my lord," she responds her breath short from her own nerves. He reaches a hesitant hand forward, brushing it against her collar to move a bit of hair back from it. Leaning forward he did what came to him first and kisses her gently. As gently as he could her moved her back, following her onto the bed and laying her down beneath him. His lips still finding hers as he hoped that helped.

It helped him. Kissing her felt enough, gently lacing his hands through the length of her hair and her own hand moving to cradle his back as he positioned himself over her. Kissing her he could forget everything else and focus himself only on the moment before him. Kissing her he could finally let out the breath he'd held all night.


	11. Arrivals and Departures

**_Jaime_**

Dodging back from the swinging metal he parried it quickly, the sound of blunted steel hitting each other ringing out in the sunlit training yard. Across him the gold cloak he was sparring with struck forward once more and Jaime was sidestepping away from it before his own sword swung upwards hitting the poor man on the side, sending him staggering and coughing. "Dead," Jaime remarks bored before moving away to allow the man to regain himself.

He already missed sparring with Barristan, or Darry. Really any of his kingsguard brothers. But Barristan and Darry had ridden out the other morning for the remainder of the kings army in the Riverlands. And Hightower was busy himself, preparing to ride out this afternoon on the kings orders to find Rhaegar. The lord commander seemed to have a general idea of where he should be going, he'd been spending the last day an a half with the spider looking over reports that could tell them where the missing prince had wandered off to for the last year.

Once Hightower left Jaime would be the lone Kingsguard in the city. It was that knowledge that fueled his hits against the gold cloak that he'd wrangled to spar with him. Swinging down with frustration at being stuck here. Granted, Lewyn Martell was due to arrive within the next few days with Elia and her children. But Jaime highly doubted Lewyn will leave guarding his niece unless strictly ordered to do so.

So Jaime had to savor this time away from the king as he swung again, even harder this time, at the poor gold cloak before him.

* * *

Jon Connington arrives in Kings Landing before the Princess Elia does, who is apparently taking her time coming from Dragonstone. Connington's moment before the king draws a crowd. If it weren't for the looming threat of another burning, Jaime could almost laugh about the fact that only a few weeks back the whole court had been applauding the Griffins rise to Hand and waving him off to end a war.

Now he was back. Still nursing a wound to his shoulder given by the rebel Robert. The army he left with scattered about south of the Riverlands, and a large failure hanging over him like a vat of wildfire. A failure that had only seemingly strengthened the rebels position, with the three heads of it reunited and apparently about to be celebrating some weddings in Riverrun if rumor was true.

Jaime stood to the side of the throne. Hightower had left Kings Landing the day before, he'd given Jaime a stern goodbye and an equally stern reminder to stay alert for threats to the king. Jaime didn't need a reminder for that, nor did he actually feel the need to stay too alert. The king was more alert to possible threats than an kingsguard could ever be.

He was only so alert to be sure no one took a too close step to the base of the dais, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword and eyes absently scanning the crowd that gathered. He was also alert enough to the king and Connington to prepare himself for the possibility of having to watch the soon-to-be former hand burn. He doesn't pay attention to what the king raves over, though he imagines its the same accusations of incompetency that were laced with suspicion of treason he'd been whispering over the last few times Jaime had stood guard for him.

His thoughts went instead to Cersei, whose letter had arrived to him this morning. She hadn't written on the rebellion much, at least not outwardly in any way that someone other than her twin would understand. She'd written their father as being busy in the Westerlands, but Jaime doubted that Lord Tywin was so busy that he couldn't ride out to stomp out a rebellion if he pleased. Father apparently seemed to still be bitter over Jaime's appointment, despite two years having passed since its start. She wrote other things, small little bits that made Jaime miss her further than he tended to already. He wished for a fleeting moment that things hadn't worked out so fucked. That father had stayed as Hand with Cersei in Kings Landing and Jaime could find his way to her rooms after finishing with the king for the day.

Instead he found his way to the Godswood with Alys after his shift ended, a retinue of gold cloaks taking the position outside the kings doors for the evening to grant Jaime rest before he returns for the next day. Jaime hadn't cared much over the exiling of the former hand and the rising of the new one. But, Alys seems just grateful that no fires were started in the process.

"Chelsted seems an okay man," She muses as she moves one of her chess pieces. The board set between them on the bench and no guards looming near them. It seems they trust she has no plans to run during the days as since Barristan and Darry's departure they've given up with assigning even a gold cloak to her save for the evenings.

"He's a bit spineless to my liking," Jaime states, moving a piece and noting the second after that it was a mistake by a twitch at the corner of her mouth. "All 'yes Aerys… as you wish your grace'. I don't believe he has a thought to himself."

Alys shakes her head at him, "well, not all men can be so brave, Ser." She glances to him with a smirk before moving her piece and remarking, "check mate."

"I told you I was horrid." He sits back from the board, leaning back on his arms and watching as she resets it. She looked lighter the last few days, a smile easily finding its place upon her. There was still some haunting grief behind her, but Jaime supposed that may never leave her after what she's seen. He knows the memories he holds of Kings Landing will likely never leave him either.

"You say that every time you lose," she laughs sweetly. "But you have gotten better."

"Well thank you, I haven't tried a bit." He sits back up as she finishes resetting the board.

"Just natural improvement then." She smiles and motions for him to make the first move.

"Or natural talent," he moves the piece and watches for her reaction, though she doesn't give any indication to whether it was good or bad he did notice her smiling at him. "Its just taking a bit to come through."

"Quite a bit," she retorts. "Thank you for playing with me this evening." She moves some hair from her face as she waits for him to move. Dark hair was ruffled by the bit of late evening wind and free of her usual braids to be cascaded down over one shoulder.

"Well it was either this or spar with another horrid excuse for a guard of the city watch."

"Are they really horrid?" She inquires. "I mean I'd hate to live in a city with guards that are horrid at the thing they should be good at."

"Perhaps not horrid," he relents with a sigh, "just horrid against me."

"You think yourself a better swordsman than everyone," she shakes her head at him, laughter playing at her words. "Well not everyone, you still have some humbleness left to you."

"Only a few exceptions."

"Yes I recall," she purses her lips while studying the board and Jaime watches her in the silence. Her eyes moved about the board, holding consideration that he was unsure about. "I haven't seen you fight." She states gently, finally moving a piece and looking back to him. "So I can't say how you'd fare against those I have seen."

"Well plenty ladies of the court venture slowly past the training yard, for reasons other than to judge the fighting skills of the men training." He moves his own piece with much less thought to it. "Have Aleah take you some day, perhaps you'll catch a glimpse then."

She shakes her head, "Aleah has been busy I think, with the queen or some other duty around the keep." She moves a piece and collects one of his. "Besides, I wouldn't want to seem like those other girls, ogling the men."

"No," he jokes with a smirk, "you're not a fan of gazing upon sweaty men? I thought that was a requirement to being a lady in Kings Landing. Is it a northern thing?"

"No," she laughs shaking her head. "But I just don't have the need to watch a man with that intention."

"The need? Does that mean you get your fill somewhere else?" He teases her with brow raised. His expression doesn't hold long as he starts to laugh when her eyes jump quickly to him. Her face beginning to turn red and flustered.

"Don't think so fully of yourself," she stammers quickly, "I didn't mean it that way and you know it."

"All I'm hearing is that you get your fill of handsome men from chess games with me," he collects a piece from her and smiles further. She moves her own piece forward, watching him with a small glare that held little to no true conviction to it.

"You are so unabashedly…"

He moves his own piece forward, taking another one of hers easily. "Handsome?" he interrupts with a flashy grin.

"Arrogant," she returns and he laughs again. She smirks a moment, peering at him through thoughtful eyes before smiling cheekily and pronouncing, "and bad at chess." She takes his king with triumphant grin.

_**Alys**_

The day princess Elia arrives to Kings Landing is sunny and bright. The whole keep is scattered about preparing for her arrival back. It was the first time the newborn prince Aegon would be seen at court. The baby born on Dragonstone had yet to leave until the summons to bring him here by Aerys. A small feast was being prepared for the Targaryen heirs arrival more than it was for the future queen to be.

Alys stayed away from it best she could. Keeping to herself out in the gardens with a book so she can better stay out of the way of the servants and guard. Jaime had been so busy with guarding the King while the other Kingsguard were away she'd hardly seen him in the last few days. Aleah had been missing from her day to day as well, though she imagined the handmaid was busy assisting the queen and her own handmaids in the small disruption that was about the court.

The welcoming was small. Significantly smaller than Alys would have supposed was due for the group that is arriving. But she had heard Alerie whisper over lunch the other day that the king wasn't a fan of his sons wife, the man apparently holding dislike for the Dornish. The queen was the one who'd arranged the welcoming feast for their arrival. Apparently more fond of her good-daughter and grandchildren then the king has shown in the past.

It was well known around the court that the reason the Princess of Dorne and her children were being brought to court was as leverage against Doran Martell. A way to keep him in the royalist fold and bring forth the Dornish armies that had been summoned since the battle of Stoney Sept.

Alys wondered after Elia Martell. She knew very little about the Dornish princess, having only seen her the one time at Harrenhal. Thinking back to those days, warm and nicer until the last of them. Elia had been at the grand feast, sat amongst some of the other Dornish. Alys even recalls seeing her dancing with her husband once in the night, before he played the song that brought Lya to tears. The Princess had smiled at her husband then, a softness that could be mistaken for love.

Was it love? Was it still love after all that had occurred?

Her face had been stone when Rhaegar had ridden past her to bestow the crown of winter roses upon Lyanna's lap. Alys had seen her shift in her seat as Rhaegar rode towards them, before her eyes had shifted to her sister and Rhaegar with nothing else but shock coursing through her.

Would she hate her? Because of her relation to Lyanna?

A large part of Alys hoped she wouldn't. A large part of Alys wanted the camaraderie of another woman stuck at court not of choice but as a hostage to keep an entire kingdom in line.

Though perhaps that would be a lot to ask of a princess.

* * *

Alys saw Elia in sparing moments the first few days of her settling into court. The feast had been small, and Alys had sat beside Alerie quietly throughout it. Elia had the three year old Rhaenys sat beside her, with a septa on the other side of the child to help with her meal. Aegon hadn't been brought to the dinner, but as Alys had started to leave after the feast had ended she'd seen the little prince be presented to his grandparents.

The first time she really truly meets the Princess of Dorne is out in the gardens. Sat in a spot she'd learned got the best breeze from the Blackwater with her book splayed open on her lap and occasionally peaking out to watch a ship pass through the harbor. A quiet wish in the back of her mind that she could be on it, sailing towards White Harbor.

Elia was walking about the garden, with Rhaenys dashing out ahead of her, a small black kitten moving faster before her. The kitten had bounded even further ahead, moving towards a bush near Alys. The small Rhaenys knelt before it searching through the foliage for the little thing.

"Can I help?" Alys inquired to the girl while setting her book aside on the bench and moving to stand beside the little princess. "My arms are a bit longer than yours, I might be able to reach him if he's far back there."

"Oh yes, Please!" Rhaenys nodded quickly, her eyes searching through the bushes presumably where the kitten could be found. The little princess was near identical to her mother, dark hair and dark tanned skin. But Alys felt she could see a bit of the queen in the girls eyes, not so much in color but in shape perhaps. Or were they her fathers eyes?

Kneeling down beside her, Alys looks through them herself until she spots two bright yellow-green eyes looking at her through the branches. She reaches carefully in, moving slow so not to startle the thing before she moves just quick enough to grab a bunch of fur and pull the kitten out to the pleased squeals of the princess.

"You found him!" she moves quickly, hugging Alys about the waist before taking the kitten into her hands and holding him close to her chest.

"May I ask his name?" Alys inquires gently. A soft smile on her face towards the girl who seemed utterly carefree save the worries over her kitten.

"Balerion." She states proudly and clearly to Alys.

"Like the dragon," Alys remarks to which Rhaenys nods wildly.

"She read about it a few weeks ago with her septa," a silvery voice says from behind the two of them. A smile forming wider than she'd already had, Rhaenys turns to see her mother walking towards the two of them. Alys follows her view and stands up to face them. "Not long before we learned we'd be coming here one of the cats on Dragonstone had kittens."

"She was quick to claim that one before we left," the kingsguard beside Elia says. Lewyn Martell, Alys identifies. He had been at Dragonstone with the princess and her children, and had traveled back to Kings Landing when they did.

"Princess Elia," Alys curtsied carefully as Elia stopped before them.

"Lady Alys… correct?" Elia smiles with a light to her eyes that leant to her kindness seeming a genuine sort where other ladies at Kings Landing always seemed like they were hiding some other meaning behind the eyes.

"Yes," Alys glances back at Rhaenys. "Its a very good name, princess." She tells the girl who still smiles proudly and holds the kitten closer, despite his slight struggling before finally settling into her arms.

"I apologize for not greeting you at the feast," Elia remarks, drawing Alys's attention back up from Rhaenys. "It was a bit distracting with Rhaella and the children."

"You were busy," Alys gives with a reassuring voice, "and I'm not anyone too important that it requires apology." She holds herself carefully, the same nervous worry over the solid connection they had of Lyanna sitting tightly in her chest. She wouldn't blame Elia's dislike, or distrust towards her. She hadn't a clue what the princess thought of the woman Rhaegar had run off with.

"Well, you were important enough to have garnered a seat at that table," Elia offers as she motions for them to sit together on the bench Alys had left. Before them Lewyn kneels before Rhaenys and the two play with Balerion between them, leading the kitten around in circles with a long leaf plucked from the bushes nearby.

"In ways that are of sour origin." Alys concedes looking at her hands before turning her eyes back to Elia.

"That's where we meet," Elia comforts with warmth. She seemed genuine, offering a tentative bridge between them and Alys felt the tightness in her chest loosen slightly.

"You are a princess and married to a future king, mother to two royal children." Alys laughs half-heartedly, "I am only the sister to a Stark, kept to control them when the war ends." If it ends in the Targaryen's favor that it. Though Alys kept those thoughts to herself, she wasn't sure what her brother and the rebels intended to do if they won. Would they put Elia's children to the throne?

Or end the line entirely and start anew with a different house.

"Still important," Elia states a hand moving to rest comfortingly on Alys's. "People so often push away the power of women like us, and yet Aerys can hold Dorne to its loyalty by having me here. Can perhaps control the north by marrying you to someone of their choosing." Elia moves her gaze to her daughter. "If we followed my family's customs my daughter would be heir to Rhaegar, not my son." She sighs and looks back to Alys, her eyes searching Alys in a way that left the northern girl feeling far too exposed. "But she can still hold power of her own, someday perhaps."

"She seems to have the spirit for it," Alys remarks while watching as Rhaenys pointed towards the water, ordering her great-uncle to lift her up so she can see out over the Blackwater. Elia smiles softer now, the warmth of a mother on her face if Alys was to identify it.

"I would like to see you again," Elia states, looking over to Alys, "I'm curious about the other bargaining piece here. But Rhaenys has lessons and Aegon will wake from his nap soon."

"Of course," Alys says standing with Elia, "I have nothing but time on my hands these days."

"I'll see you soon then, Alys."

* * *

If Alys were to say why she was feeling lighter over the last week she would point to two reasonings.

First would be the letters she sent out over two weeks back. She didn't know if Aleah even actually sent them, but she believed she did, she had to believe she did. She trusted Aleah, truly, and her heart knew that she wouldn't have tricked her. She hoped enough about the matter that it didn't matter. Even if they hadn't reached her brothers she felt relief at having let them go. A different sort than when she'd written letters only to burn them. Sending them somewhere had lightened her spirit, freeing it up in a way that her praying hadn't managed.

Perhaps because she felt more heard with the letters than she has in months with words whispered before an old oak tree.

The second reason would be Elia and Rhaenys. She'd seen the two frequently over the last week since meeting them in the gardens. Joining the pair for dinners most nights as of late, she and Elia would talk easily. Alys inquiring much about Dorne, and Elia much about the north. The two girls talked together about interests, and memories, and life. Alys told of her memories of dancing at Harrenhal with Elia's brother and asking him questions about his home through it all, Elia returned in kind, telling her own memories of the good days at Harrenhal, as well as about the last year on Dragonstone. Alys also played often with Rhaenys, enjoying the girl greatly. Usually whenever Elia felt ill for a few hours Alys would run about the keep with the little princess. Chasing through the halls with Balerion and even once playing down at the waters edge with Lewyn standing guard nearby.

She felt a strange sort of happiness here. Something that felt so out of place she wondered if she was dreaming.

Her dream is woken when a personal guard to Rhaella comes to retrieve her while she sits with the Tyrell girls for lunch one day. She walks quietly through the halls behind him, the same sort of dread that had risen when she'd first met the Dragon queen bubbling low in her stomach. Building slowly and surely until she entered the queens chambers and heard Rhaella call for her to enter.

* * *

The queens chambers were filled with light. The windows open to the outside letting in a breeze from the Blackwater that filled the air with a taste of the sea. The queen herself sat at a writing table, looking over letters with a handmaid stood nearby waiting to assist when called upon. The decor was all black, and silver, and red. Dragons appearing in ornate designs upon the wood of the table and chair, or small stitches on the silks of the bed.

Entering the dragon queens room was like entering the den of a something dangerous. At least that was how it felt to Alys. She felt nerves piling upon nerves over why the queen would summon her. The few interactions she'd had with the queen had always left her feeling on edge, as though she were one wrong word or step away from being thrown to the pyre.

But Alys moved to assure herself. The queen, while frightening to her, was not mad like the king. She was the solid stone of the Targaryen royalty in Kings Landing, utterly unmoved by the madness of her husband and the absence of her eldest. She managed the household of the Red Keep with ease and a deft hand. Besides, she was kind when she had reason to be. The moments she'd interacted with Alys, the queen had always been kind, if a little closed off and observant of the Stark. Alys knew the queen cared for her family. She had seen Rhaella's face light up at the feast when Aegon had been presented to the king and her. She had looked at her grandson with such love that Alys felt was of the most genuine sort. She was kind to Elia, and lavished the little Rhaenys with all the love and gifts due a princess of the crown.

Alys still felt her blood freeze as she stood before the queen and bowed. Watching with anxious waiting as the queen finished a sentence upon her letter before looking up to her and smiling.

Her eyes were bolder than the kings. Bright and violet and holding a look that said she saw all.

Perhaps she did.

It certainly felt like she did.

"My good-daughter has spoken kindly about your company," the queen remarks, her attention shifting back to sealing the letter with wax. "The Princess Rhaenys as well, she regards you as a friend."

"I'm glad," Alys says, her voice sounding like a mouse compared to the queen. "I've become fond of them both as well. Elia is so kind, and Rhaenys is such a sweet girl."

A smile passes the queens lips. She hands off the letter to the handmaid behind her, keeping quiet as she watches the girl move from the room and even for a few moments after the door has shut. "You may sit, Alys." She motions to the seat before the desk. "Would you like some wine?" Alys takes the glass Rhaella extends, but can only manage a small sip as she watches the queen drink her own.

"Thank you." Alys manages. She looks around the room once more, studying the intricate tapestries upon the walls. Images of house Targaryen's history were woven into them. "Those are beautiful." She says gently.

"They are," Rhaella smiles while following Alys's gaze to the wall. "Aegon's conquest with his sisters." She motions to the largest of the tapestries. "Woven to show his conquest over each of the kingdoms, save Dorne though. That is on another tapestry, somewhere else in the keep"

Alys nodded, her eyes falling upon the depiction of Torrhen Stark knelt before Aegon and his dragon. She wondered if it was simply the fact of familial ties or her own grief that made her see Brandon in the knelt mans figure. She looks away when the image of him knelt, chained by the neck with green fire illuminating his face takes over her mind.

"I am certain you are wondering why I summoned you here." Rhaella draws Alys from her mind and back to the room. A small bit of thankfulness to Alys at being pulled from her darkening thoughts, "I'm certain you've been missing your handmaid, Aleah, the last few weeks."

"I assumed she was busy helping elsewhere," Alys says, "besides I grew up without the help of a handmaid. I was able to manage the last few weeks on my own."

"Good," Rhaella smiled, but Alys noticed it didn't reach her eyes. No, her eyes were studying every movement Alys made carefully. It left her feeling exposed and nervous, her hand gripping the wine cup the smallest bit more. "She won't be returning to your service." Alys couldn't help the slip of surprise that came to her face. Her focus fell on the queen, what she was looking for in Alys's reaction. "I have a few questions for you though."

"Of course, your grace." Alys's voice is small again, tiny and helpless. Nerves pushing it down until it was the smallest thing in the room.

"Have you noticed her doing anything one might deem outside a handmaids duties? I understand you haven't much experience with them but does anything come to mind?" Alys looks away from the queen, her heart racing and her mind falling to two letters sent a few weeks back by Aleah.

"No, your grace." Her voice is full of her nerves, she doesn't believe she could hide it if she tried.

"Did you ever see her speaking with people she had no reason to speak with?"

"I don't know," Alys looks back, against her nerves, to the queen. Purple eyes watching with no sign of what thoughts race behind them. "I… can't think of anyone. I'm sorry." She thinks of a day in the gardens, Lord Varys passing them and her handmaid's eyes following the eunuch as he left.

She doesn't mention it. She doesn't know if she should or shouldn't mention anything or everything.

"Have you seen her with any letters, sealed with unmarked wax? Has she mentioned at any point to you support for the rebels?" Alys breathes carefully, fear that if she didn't her breath would quicken and she would lose herself.

"No," Alys shook her head, but her eyes stayed stuck in the grasp of the queen. Unable to remove them, entranced and imprisoned. "I saw her sending letters to her sister once." Alys admits, saying what she deems she can, what comes to her mind. "But she'd said they were for her father, and it was easier for her sister to get them to him from the reach."

"Has she expressed any support for rebels to you?" Rhaella asks again. She seemed terribly tall, despite the both of them being sat opposite each other. She loomed, in spirit if not in size, over Alys the way Aegon had loomed over Torrhen Stark's knelt form upon the tapestry.

"No," Alys says, "she was sympathetic for my losses. But I never heard her speak ill of the crown or in support of my… of the rebels."

Rhaella sighs, sending fright through Alys's spine. But she nods then, releasing it slightly, "very well. Thank you, Alys, I am certain you've told me all you knew."

"Of course, your grace." She willed her voice to not tremble, and was grateful when the queens eyes left her. "I…" she starts, her will leaving her until she forces it back. _Be bold_. She tells her soul, "what did she do? If I can ask, your grace?"

"Lord Varys had her reporting to him, as I'm sure you felt." Rhaella states, "keeping an eye on you and some others." Alys nods slightly as she sips her wine, hoping for some comfort. "But he discovered later she was working against the crown as well. Sending letters along to rebels, informing them of the kings state and affairs." Alys puts her glass down, her mind falling to letters sent along to declared rebels by Aleah. Letters sent for Alys's sake.

"Oh," is all Alys can say. Her throat is tight and she can't manage more wine. She can only think of Aleah.

Rhaella nods, her eyes falling back to Alys. Weighing down upon the Stark girl, a feeling of exposure all upon her. _Does she know? Were those letters the ones that got Aleah caught? Is she waiting for a confession?_ Alys forces thought from her mind, and focuses entirely on the moment she is in.

"I'll have one of my guards escort you back to your rooms now," Rhaella says, calling in the guard that had brought Alys here. "Thank you, again, Lady Alys, for your time and honesty." Alys nods to the queen, bowing before her departure and then follows the guard mindlessly through the halls of Maegor's holdfast.

She forces herself to think of nothing as they walk. Knowing if she let even a simple thought through it would spiral and fall into an endless worry about Aleah. She forces silence, thinking of just silence as they walk through the halls and out to the walkways connecting the red keep all together.

They are passing through a walkway that outlooks the city when she spots a row of heads. She'd seen them in passing before. Heads displayed to look towards the city, a warning to all. She couldn't stop her own head turning to glance at them. Some were burnt remains from those whose fate was ended through Aerys. A small faint thought crosses her mind without meaning over whether one was the head of the poor serving boy killed at the tourney feast so long ago. The heads were all tarred to be preserved it seemed, even the burnt ones. Her eyes begin to look away when she recognizes a head. A face, slightly turned inwards, that hits Alys completely still and seizes her entire self.

Aleah, eyes open and dead, was barely recognizable by the tarring. But Alys had noted it, her mind had betrayed her and saw it. She looked away, the guard glancing back at her stopped figure. She forced herself forward. But the head loomed in her minds eye, the head of a friend stuck there.

Killed, dead.

The second the guard leaves her to her room she feels every thought she'd kept from herself fall down onto her. As though the roof of the maiden vault had been struck down by a quake and she was caught under the rubble. She stumbled, fell to her knees and a cry racked through her entire being.


	12. Things that Haunt

_**Jaime **_

Jaime had been counting down the days until Barristan and Darry returned. When they'd received the letter that they'd gathered the last of Connington's men and were riding back to the city he was ecstatic enough about the possibility of not having to spend his entire day guarding just the King that he did the math of how long it should take them to make it back to the city with an army.

They should be returning in the day, hopefully. He knew that it was unlikely for one of them to take over guarding for the day, but at the least he'd be free the next day. Well, not free, more like he'd be assigned to the Queen or the Princess and her children. But free of the King for a day was quite the exciting thing for Jaime having spent the last few weeks subjugated to standing nearby the old and mad man for all hours in which daylight was out.

Days with the king proved either boring or maddening in themselves. Often Jaime found himself stood by the Iron Throne, the king deciding to sit upon the damned thing despite the still healing scabs that littered his body from the last time. Often when they left the throne room Jaime, following just a step behind the king, would count the little drops of blood that trailed the king on his way back to his private rooms. It wasn't a substantial amount of blood, but enough that made Jaime even more puzzled about why anyone would wish to sit upon the damned thing if it was a literal pain in the ass.

The kings solar was boring as well, typically the king alone with his hand Chelsted and any number of his pyromancers about him. Jaime would always stand off to the side, watching half-heartedly as the pyromancers showed their newest creations to the king. He'd watch with little attention as they set the little green bottles upon the map and Aerys leant over it, hunched and looking a strong wind away from crumbling with a sick smile that was illuminated by the bottles.

Chelsted, it seemed, enjoyed these meetings in the kings chambers even less than Jaime. Jaime, it seemed, at least had the option to tune out the kings rambling and the pyromancers whispering voices. Chelsted had to listen to every word, and advise the king without sounding like a traitor bent on the kings destruction. That seemed especially hard ever since Connington and the disaster at Stoney Sept, the king becoming acutely aware and paranoid over the looming threat in the Riverlands and the fact that it was likely the biggest threat to the Targaryen reign since the Blackfyre rebellions.

Jaime was not even sure that Rhaegars news of return was helpful or hurtful to the Kings paranoia. Personally he was ready for the Prince to return and hopeful that he'd bring some semblance of sanity back to the Targaryen rule in Kings Landing. But Aerys worried over it still, with the occasional sharp whispers to himself over Rhaegar's threat or something of the sort.

Jaime tried hard to not listen to the mad and rambling whispers that haunted the king.

He was stood to the side of the throne with the king picking at scabs, whispering something with wildfire and Rossart and Chelsted all making appearances in his rambling when two white cloaked men made their way before the throne. Bowing low to the king they swore servitude towards and stating the status of the Royalist army they'd been sent to collect.

The sight of Darry and Barristan made Jaime feel some relief. The feeling was made even better when Darry offered to take over for the rest of the day, giving Jaime his first evening off since the pair had left Kings Landing.

He walked with Barristan towards the White Sword Tower in silence until they were well within the tower walls. "How does the king seem?" Barristan finally spoke as they entered the barracks.

"Paranoid as ever," Jaime remarked. He'd learned early in his time as a Kingsguard who he could speak bluntly to about the king and who he couldn't. He also learned exactly how much he could say to each of them. "His pyromancers are ever present as of late."

Barristan nodded solemnly. The man, who held near three decades of life over Jaime, was one of the few that the youngest Kingsguard felt comfortable speaking these things around. It seemed Barristan understood his need to voice the questions and concerns that had come to Jaime since his appointment in the order. The older knight himself would never say foul things about the king, but Jaime had noted that the knight often held a sad look of grief when he looked at the king. The man seemed ever overflowing with concern towards the king, even despite the madness that had taken him and the lives he had burned away.

Still, it was far better than either Darry or Hightower. Both of which seemed more resolute in their duty of only protecting the king, and not in judging him. Darry even more so seemed to simply ignore the madness as though it were simply the way things had always been and will always be. Hightower at least seemed to get concerned from time to time, but he never showed that to Jaime outwardly.

"Perhaps Rhaegar and Hightower will be able to deal with them on their return," Barristan finally said once Jaime returned to the small armory to hang up his armor and sword.

"Hopefully." Jaime replied before leaving the older Knight alone while he left to seek out some more preferable company.

_**Alys**_

The days seem to move by slowly and numbly lately. Moving entirely through the motions of life at court she finds it hard to do much else but sleep, eat, and stare numbly at the old oak tree at the center of the godswood. She can't even pray. It was too much energy it seemed. Besides, every time she closed her eyes whether it was for sleep or for prayer she saw heads tarred and spiked looking out over the city.

Mostly, especially the first few days, it was Aleah. Just as she'd seen her there, face barely recognizable from the tar. She'd fallen sick after she'd seen it walking back. After she'd collapsed in her rooms and sobbed all that was in her she'd turned sick instead of weeping, and whenever she'd started to feel less nauseous the image would come to her mind and she'd return to dry-heaving over a bowl.

But it wasn't just her dead friend she saw in her dreams. She saw her father, burnt and strung up once again upon those walls. It was a nightmare coated in reality that had once faded away with time but was now back swinging before her with green flames all around. She saw Brandon fully occasionally, with bloodshot eyes and gasping for air. Reaching, always reaching, and with her stuck in her spot being able to do nothing but watch and scream. But sometimes she saw just his head up there, spiked above the city walls with her stood on the walkway just staring at his face, jaw open in a scream and eyes staring, screaming.

They were all dead, the three of them. With her still left alive.

Around her fathers burning body and her brother and handmaids spiked heads she saw the others who'd traveled south and died. She saw the men who'd traveled with her and Brandon, men who'd joked with her to calm her nerves about Lyanna in the quick race southwards. They were all slack-jawed and empty eyed in their decapitated state.

She tended to wake screaming from these nightmares. She tended to feel tears, hot on her face, when she closed her eyes for prayer only to see them all again.

Somehow, the worst nightmares were the ones with Ned. She'd walk along the seemingly endless walkways surrounding the Red Keep. The city distantly aglow with wildfire and the cackling of a mad king barely a whisper echoing in the distance. Her eyes trailed along the faces of those who'd died here, those she'd known and even some she didn't. Then she would greet a wall with a walkway that got closer to the inner wall that held the heads. She'd always stop before it, even as she wished she wouldn't, and look up at the head. It was always faced away at first, looking out over the city. Around it were heads she didn't know, but she felt the injustice of their death heavy over them like the smoke of the city. Then the head would turn, slowly and achingly towards her. An invisible figure turning it so she could see, another pushing her forward to see closer.

His hair was longer, his beard thicker, and tar covering it all to preserve it. But it was undeniably her brother. Ned. His head severed from his body and slack with death. It made her choke and scream but she was always stuck staring at it, the laughter growing louder in her ears as her legs forced her forwards until she was face to face with her brothers death.

She would always wake then, with tears and sweat and screams in her throat.

Alys glances up quickly to the sound of stone pushing, her throat catching and her heart beating hard in her chest. Her eyes moved from the dying fire of the hearth to the noise, behind a thin tapestry hiding the little door that she'd seen months back when Jaime had came back after the feast for the tourney. It was Jaime stood there again, a grunt of exertion escaping him as he pushed the stone most of the way back.

"Oh no, don't help me with that, I've got it myself." He remarked with sarcasm heavily flowing through his voice.

"Sorry," her voice felt slow, and cracked from the rawness of her throat. She blinks a second, looking as Jaime stands there now, in his simpler clothes he wears after his shift ends. "What are you doing here?"

"Well you stood up our last four games of chess, and then Alerie Hightower said she hadn't seen you over a week." He pulls the second chair over and infront of the fireplace with her. "She's quite worried, I assured her you weren't dead and instead just sick."

"You lied?"

"Yes, well knightly vows are lenient with lying depending on the reasoning." He looks her over once more. "And, well, I figured there was a possibility it was the truth at the time."

She glances away from his studying gaze and returns to looking at the dying embers before them. Beside her Jaime sighs and reaches over to throw one of the logs left to the side within, taking the iron poker leant nearby to stoke the flames into catching. "I'm not sick."

"Yes," he nods, "well I figured I should check on that, as well as making sure you weren't dead either."

She grits her teeth and shoves her hands along the blanket strewn over her lap. "Aleah's dead." She whispers the words. Voice surprisingly steady for the heavy words that escaped.

Jaime is quiet for several moments, and when she peaks a glance to him he's staring into the fire himself. His face stone and full of thought it seems as he mulls over the words. "It's my fault." She adds, her voice gentler and beginning to tremor as she squeezes her eyes shut to keep hot tears from spilling.

She opens them quickly at the imprint of her friends head. "It's not," Jaime remarks, "that's ridiculous." He adds and she feels his gaze upon her.

"But it is…" her voice shudders and strains. "I…" she can't meet his gaze though she feels it calling her to look. "She sent a letter. Two technically. A few weeks back."

"Yes, well she is… was a handmaid. They do that."

"She sent a letter for me… to my brothers." She can't stop her eyes from flicking up and meeting his own. Understanding was already upon his eyes, and he nods at her words. "It was a stupid risk… and now she's dead."

"I know." He says plainly, "but it wasn't your fault." He speaks the words with solidity to them. "Aleah made the choice to send them. She also made the choice to send other letters, ones that I'm certain were more treasonous in the eyes of our king and queen than whatever you had in yours."

"You knew about Aleah?" She breathes the words with little voice left to them.

"I knew she was taken by the spider and the queen, I didn't know they'd had her killed for it."

"When did you know?"

"I asked, when you said you hadn't seen her a few weeks back. I inquired and figured you didn't need to worry over it." His eyes, green and bright, were gentle towards her. A strange feeling of comfort extended for her that she felt surround her in a way she'd needed for days.

"It was still a stupid thing to do." Alys says, sighing and running a hand over her face.

"It was." He says with a shrug.

"I saw her… Her head. Up on the walkways." Alys blinked away the memories of it. "I haven't stopped seeing it. And all the nightmares." Her voice sticks in her throat, choking her slightly as a sob tries to force an escape.

A hand rests over hers on her lap. "It wasn't your fault." He told her again. "I can't tell you how to get rid of the nightmares." He informs her, green eyes like summer grass catching grey eyes of winter ice and the two connected together with the space between them. "But I can say that sitting alone in your room wallowing in your sorrow will do nothing but bring you more of it."

"It's hard," she chokes out.

"Well according to many so is life itself." He shrugged with little care, but his eyes still held the seriousness. "And so is chess so I need you to help me get at least to the point where I can beat my brother once when I see him next… could you do that? Because otherwise I believe I'm quite hopeless."

She laughs, its a sad sound, and a sound that feels utterly foreign but still pulls a smile to Jaimes lips. "Fine." She says though her voice is still strained and her cheeks still stained with tears. "Fine I'll help you with your chess."

* * *

Alys let her eyes shut just a moment in the sun. Trying to savor it the way she had weeks ago and finding herself only just able to enjoy the feeling of it upon her. She thinks faintly of Jaime as she opens her eyes to the green foliage and blue sky around her, the gardens of the Red Keep well tended and a strange beautiful thing in this time of sorrow and war.

Rhaenys was sat nearby upon the stonework, her small black kitten following a bit of ribbon the little princess kept on her for this very purpose around and and around. The Princess Elia sat at the small table of breakfast with Alys, watching her new friend steadily it seemed before remarking after some time of warm silence "My husband is apparently returning to court soon."

Alys looked immediately towards her and bites nervously the inside of her lip as she thinks on that. "Is that why Lewyn left?" The Martell Kingsguard that had spent most of his time guarding just the princess and her children had departed in the early morning without much fanfare or really anyone being any sort of aware. Alys felt she would miss him a bit, he was always kind and seemed to love his niece and the children greatly.

Elia nods, reaching for some of the food that was before them. "Well, more so sent to command the Dornish army being sent north. I'm sure he'll meet with Rhaegar though, and travel north with him."

"So Rhaegar was in Dorne?" Alys inquires, her own appetite still fairly limited as of late so she simply continues to pick at the same piece of pastry she'd been working at most of the morning.

"Apparently." Elia remarks, a flash of something serious crossing her face before she seems to shake it away and something more sad and worrisome towards Alys comes to her. "From what I'd heard there wasn't any news of Lyanna though. I'm sorry." Sympathy is laced through her dark eyes and Alys nods solemnly before looking back out over the bannister towards the Blackwater.

The two of them never talked much about her sister. Alys always worried over bringing Lyanna up to Elia, worried that it would lead to a foul air between them. She picked worriedly at the piece of pastry in her hands before remarking, "I am sorry as well, I suppose, for Lyanna."

It felt odd, apologizing for her sister regarding a thing like this. Then again, Alys grown up apologizing for Lyanna if the need arose. Apologizing when Lya ran off on her horse rather than talk with visiting lords, or when Lya would steal a sword and practice with it against their fathers wishes, or when Lya rebuffed her betrothed to go dance with someone else. Alys apologized whenever she knew her sister wouldn't see reason to.

Elia looks to her, a brow raised in questioning before a sigh escapes her lips with understanding. "You have no reason to apologize," her eyes cast downward darkly before the giggling of Rhaenys draws them to the small princess and a lightness comes back to them. "Rhaegar made a choice, not you nor I."

_Lya made a choice too,_ Alys thinks to herself recalling easily the night near Harrenhal. Her sister pulling her cloak over her shoulders and glancing back at Alys on the bed. She'd knelt before her when Alys had called out and smiled with bliss to her face. _"There is nothing to worry over Alys,"_ she had said, her voice a whisper so as not to wake their traveling companions who were fast asleep nearby, _"I'll be back before you know it."_ And then Lyanna had left and has yet to return.

"Still, I can't help how I feel about it sometimes. Wishing and wondering if there was something I could have done." _Stopped Lya that night, or gone with her… perhaps then Rhaegar and her would not have run off._

Elia's eyes study Alys closely for a moment, and Alys can't help but look away feeling as though she were searching for the hidden words in her mind. The truth that only Alys knew about Rhaegar and Lyanna. But how much of that was truly the truth, perhaps even still there was more to it than what Alys had seen.

"I suppose I could say the same." Elia finally spoke, her eyes leaving Alys like a weight falling away. "I often think back to before all of this, the moments I shared with my husband and what signs might have come up."

"Signs?" Alys asks, her eyes now turning to fall upon Elia. Her turn to study the other woman for hidden secrets about it all.

"That Rhaegar was planning what it is he was planning," the dornish woman shrugs and keeps her own eyes steadily on Rhaenys. "I suppose I saw them, but I was either pregnant or had just had our second child." Alys watches a sort of dark look on the princesses face pass within a moment, perhaps a memory moving quickly through her mind before getting put away.

That was all that was spoken on that though as soon Rhaenys came bounding towards the two women with Balerion wiggling in her grasp and the small cat was being handed off to Elia. All while Alys was dragged along to run with the little princess about the gardens to play, letting her forget for just a while all the things that haunted her.

_**Eddard**_

Stood on the battlements of Riverrun is where Eddard found his new lady-wife. She was dressed for the day and held a thick shawl around her as cold winds blew around the castle. He smiled faintly as he recalled her joke a few days back that he'd brought the northern weather down south alongside his army. "Any sign of the enemy?" He calls after a moments hesitation. Two weeks of each others near constant company and he still felt nervous when he spoke with her.

"No," she returned, blue eyes turning to look at him with a gentle smile that Ned was easily coming to love. "Just armies preparing to take away my father and new husband." She spoke the words lightly but Ned could just hear the bitterness behind them.

He'd gotten good at that, at least. His wife was good at appearing gentle and sweet but he had learned after only a few conversations just the two them that she held a sharpness like steel in her words whenever she wished to wield it.

"We head straight for Kings Landing, if we're lucky we'll get there and take the city with little trouble." He knew they wouldn't be so lucky, it was war and he had learned early in it that luck was hardly on anyones side while at war. "Then I will be back here in your bed before you know it."

That earned another sweet and gentle smile that sent happiness through Neds being. "I shall hold you to that My lord."

"Ned," he spoke, as he often did after she called him that.

"Ned." She repeated, as she often did after he corrected her.

They stood together now, side by side, while looking out over the armies that had spent the last fortnight resting outside the walls of Riverrun. Within the walls it was almost easy to forget the armies outside, to forget the war and the loss and the bloodshed that had come and was still to come. Ned had enjoyed the nights with his wife, despite the guilt that still loomed like a ghost over him, and had enjoyed the moments he'd spent with her during the day whenever he could get away from war meetings and councils with Jon and Robert.

They had learned each other quicker than he'd expected, in bed and out.

He knew she often came up here before breaking their fast together in their rooms. She knew that he could only really sleep when the windows were open to bring in cold air, which she had been quick to complain over and insist that he at least let them sleep with an extra blanket and their bodies tangled together for warmth. He had learned the best spot to kiss her while they had sex, a small spot on her collar bone that brought a blush near as red as her hair when he kissed it. She had learned that he enjoyed having her legs around him while they had sex, pulling the pair of them closer together.

She had learned that he'd read his sisters letter before bed every evening. She had read it herself, after he'd given permission, and had moved it to the table beside their bed so he wouldn't have to leave her side to get it. Sometimes she'd reach for it herself, and read the words to him before sleep.

The two of them learned each other in the short time they'd had and Ned knew she was bitter over their departure partially for worry over the danger he would face but also because they still had so much left to learn of each other. He wished he could stay longer himself, wished that they were instead in Winterfell and spending the first months following marriage with just each other and not with a war haunting ever-present around them.

He sighed, taking a last look out at the nearly packed and ready armies before taking his wife's hand in his own. He'd learned it was tiny and delicate compared to his own, and that he loved feeling wrapping his hands over hers. He lead her back to their room and back to their bed. She smiled as he did, gentle and sad and longing as he moved to kiss her in the silence of their room.

Neither of them spoke, the only sound was them together in the room.

Together they made to learn some more before he rode out in the next hour.

* * *

**Sorry for the bit of a wait! Got a new job so that took over my attention a bit.**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! I love the comments I get and even if I don't reply please know that it makes me the literal happiest I can be! I'm much better at replying to things on my tumblr (under the same username) if you want to have a discussion or to ask any questions :)**

**I'm excited for some stuff that's coming up and have it outlined through the next several chapters so hopefully the wait won't be long.**


	13. Things that Build

**_Alys_**

The court had become utterly abuzz in the morning when Alys had taken her walk to the godswood before breaking her fast with Elia. She passed several groups of closely talking people, from servants, to knights, to lords and ladies. Everyone was entirely absorbed by the return of the prince. Though Alys hadn't even realized that was what it was all about until she walked her way to the small little garden terrace where she and Elia had taken to having meals together and spots the Prince himself stood by his wife talking rather tensely together.

She hadn't seen the prince in over a year. The last time had been at the godswood in Harrenhal while her sister and her travelled towards Riverrun with a small group of guards. Rhaegar had been handsome as always then, his eyes soft towards Lya in a way that at the time seemed so sweet and inviting. His eyes now, as they flicked over to her as she hesitantly made her presence known, seemed less inviting, more melancholic and far away in a way that seemed almost otherworldly.

Though that was the thing about Targaryens, Alys supposes, they hold themselves up to a state of otherworldly-ness. Even generations after the last dragons were alive to cement their position as something more than normal, they hold themselves to that status. Alys had seen it with the queen, ever regal in the face of her husbands cruelty. She'd seen it even in the king himself, his madness uplifted to an otherworldly and terrifying thing while the green flames illuminated his hunched frame upon a throne of swords.

Rhaegar had looked otherworldly all the other times Alys had seen him; plucking the strings of a harp in a song that brought her sister to tears, at the tourney with a wreath of winter roses in his hands, and under the setting light of the sun in Harrenhal's godswood inviting her sister for a walk.

He still holds that essence about him as he glances to Alys only a second while she excuses herself away to sit and play with Rhaenys. She wishes partially to give the couple, who'd seemed in tense conversation a second before, privacy. But mostly she pulls herself away because the man before her, no matter how beautiful and otherworldly he was, was the man who had ran off with her sister.

Her sister who hadn't yet returned, despite him returning now.

As Alys settles with Rhaenys who sits feeding the small black kitten pieces of fish, she thinks further of her sister. If Lyanna had returned with Rhaegar she's certain that she is the first her sister would have sought out. Thus, with Lya nowhere to be seen that meant she's still wherever she's been this time. Likely in Dorne, if that is where the Prince traveled from.

Not dead. Lya couldn't be dead. Surely Alys would know if she were, they were twins after all. That had to count for something.

If anything it could count to give her hope.

She smiles as encouragingly as she can muster at the princess as she talks fervently about a lesson she'd had with her septa the other afternoon. She pays little attention to the prince and Elia behind her save a few space glances. The husband and wife in some deep conversation that left a tight look to Elia's face as she held the little prince Aegon in her arms. She held him tightly, his small form turned away slightly from Rhaegar.

When Rhaegar leaves he doesn't acknowledge her more than a passing nod and a torn look to his eyes. Elia calls her over after a few moments pass and Alys ruffles Rhaenys's dark hair before joining Elia at the table and reaching for the simplest thing upon the table to eat.

Elia settles Aegon into the little bassinet nearby, letting the little prince lie peacefully with a mobile of dragons spinning with the wind from the sea above him as though they were flying. Her eyes are downcast in thought as Alys sits, but her face gives no other indications to where her thoughts have gone. Alys wonders if she should have listened in if only to know what runs through Elia's mind now, but feels guilt pull at her with the thought of spying on anyone let alone her own friend.

"He's leaving tomorrow," Elia says after a few moments of the two ladies eating in quietness. "Taking his men and heading northwards."

"Oh," Alys remarks, "that's very soon." She picks at the piece of fruit she held in her hands as she thinks. "I would have thought he'd stay a bit, after traveling."

"I would too," Elia sounds annoyed, but Alys knows it isn't directed at her. Her voice is also tired, she'd been unwell the day before, and had spent the day inside alone with her son. It seems she is still recovering from the dip in her health. "If not to rest than to clean up some of the mess here."

She didn't say Aerys, not outright. But the words were laced with her implications.

Alys knew that was the hope of many at court, that Rhaegar would swoop into the Red Keep and make everything suddenly right. Alys hadn't been able to help but hope that as well, hope that he'd do something, anything to make things better.

She would have been happy if that thing had been her sister's return.

She was missing her more now in this moment with the princes return than she had in months.

She was worrying for her more now as well.

"Lewyn will be going as well," Elia adds a sad tilt to her voice, "I tried to get Rhaegar to agree to keep him here. If only for my peace of mind." Alys hums along as Elia sighs, "especially considering Hightower did not return."

Alys glances up at that, curiosity rising in her ever so slightly, "why wouldn't Hightower return with him?"

Elia meets Alys's eyes and studies her for a moment before shaking her head, "I don't know." Her voice was tense and Alys knew there was more to it as the princess distracted herself with a bit of food.

"He left him with Lyanna?" Alys says the words gently, as though she were stepping on fragile ground between them. "And the kingsguard that had been with Rhaegar all this time, are they still gone or did they return?"

Elia pauses before nodding, "still gone. He wouldn't tell me where." The words were silent between them, but they both knew where.

_With Lyanna._

What evaded Alys most was the reasoning for why the prince would leave three kingsguard with her sister?

**_Jaime_**

Jaime had been allowed the whole day off to himself. He knew the reason for it. The prince had been sequestered in the small council room all day with many differing people, preparing for a battle that Jaime knew many hoped would end this war. Jaime knew the other kingsguard, save Darry who guarded the king, were in there.

Jaime knew he'd be left behind again. Left to guard the king alone.

He couldn't help the bitterness that sat in his stomach all day. He channelled it all in his swings against the poor gold cloak that had agreed to spar with him. Hitting down and down again and again until the man shouted yield and Jaime was left to swing against another.

And another.

And another.

Until his arms were sore and the sun was near its time to set.

He changed his clothes and wiped some of the sweat from himself before wandering towards the godswood to meet Alys for some chess.

Perhaps that would be some good distraction, or at least a new location in which to vent his bitter frustration upon.

It seemed his frustration was not well hidden as he sat upon the bench beside Alys, her eyes studying him with concerned scrutiny as she set up the pieces before them. "Are you okay?" She finally asks after she finishes.

"Perfectly well, thank you." He knows the words sound utterly fake, a bitter bite to each syllable but he can't bring himself to care if his words sound harsh. Thankfully Alys took it surprisingly in stride as she shook her head at him and motioned for him to take the first move.

"I saw the prince this morning," she remarks after a few silent moments with them going back and forth on the board. "When I met Elia for breakfast."

Jaime huffs and stares far too intensely at the pieces before deciding upon a pawn. "So its that then." She states, her voice lightly prodding with teasing.

"So what's what then?" he looks at her with far too much exasperation to himself.

"Your source of foul mood…" She doesn't meet his eyes, instead keeping her own upon the board and her pieces. "Did something happen? Or are you just not a fan of the prince?"

"Nothing happened," he mumbles. "Nothing will happen either I'm certain."

"Are you traveling with him tomorrow?" She speaks the words hesitantly, a bit of worry traced through her voice and he feels her eyes rest on him now.

"No." He lets the words fall like a hammer. "Though I'd rather be out there, fighting and bloody than in here."

Alys holds no reply, simply moving her piece and letting his words fall away to the wind. They move back and forth in silence, and Jaime nearly wins before she calls check. When he looks for her to either boast her win or congratulate his improvement in skill he finds neither, instead her eyes are sallow with lost thoughts and her looking away from him. Her eyes studying the large heart tree while her hands fiddle with her skirts in the way Jaime recognizes as her anxious action of choice.

She doesn't ask for a second game, and Jaime feels the air shift between them in a tense way. He shouldn't be worried as she excuses herself. He shouldn't worry about her at all. But he does and he moves with her as she stands, collecting the chess set for her and carrying it as an excuse to walk her back to her rooms.

They walk in still silence through the winding paths of the godswood, and are nearly clear of it when a figure crosses their paths. "Lady Alys, Ser Jaime." The princes musical voice rings between them practically shattering the thin silence that had enveloped them, Jaime almost swears Alys jumps but she simply bows before Rhaegar, and Jaime follows her lead.

"I was hoping I could have a word with you, my lady." Jaime watches as Alys pales, more than she naturally is, but she doesn't let it show too harshly by nodding and taking his arm.

Jaime hesitates while Alys glances to him before worrying at her bottom lip. "I'll leave this in your room then," Jaime remarks, motioning at the chess set and bowing once more to the prince who nods. As he leaves he feels the dark violet eyes follow him a moment, studying him closely in a way that makes Jaime only slightly unsettled.

He shouldn't worry over Alys, especially with the Prince. Rhaegar is the best of his family. A fine example of what a prince, a king, should be. And a man of sound mind and reason, unlike his father. He wouldn't harm her.

But he ran off with her sister, and she knows that.

He shouldn't worry, he tells himself again as he enters her rooms and sets the chess set upon the small desk of hers.

He shouldn't worry, and yet he decides to take a seat in her room and wait for her despite his internal protestations.

**_Alys_**

The godswood seemed colder as they walked. Or perhaps it was simply her. It was fear, small and curled within her that chilled her.

_He won't hurt me_. No. He won't, he can't. She's too valuable a hostage and he's of more sound mind than his father. She tries to settle the fear, tries to assure herself.

She wishes Jaime had accompanied them, wishes he were beside her if only to make her feel ever so slightly safer.

When he speaks she has to keep herself still and settled. But she knows her arm tightened slightly and he would have felt it against his. Thankfully he makes no vocal note on it, instead asking, "Have you been faring well these last several months in the capital?"

His words were meant to express concern, they held it in the tone. But Alys was unsure how true his tone was to his true feelings. "Well enough." She replies, her voice tight and sounding too shrill. She wishes she were better at keeping herself collected. Elia was skilled at it, she could choose whether her feelings came through in her voice or not. Alerie was good as well, but more because she was skilled at always sounding so carefree no matter her true thoughts and feelings.

"Good," his voice doesn't convey the relief she imagines he'd meant for it, instead it sounds tense as well. She sneaks a glance to his face, and finds it lost in deep thought and worry. She wonders whether it was worry for her sake or for her sisters.

She feels the fear tighten further within her. Along with some other feeling, a feeling of boldness at the thought of her sister. "My apologies, your grace," she finds the words escaping with little choice, "is my sister well?" His eyes glance down to meet hers. He was tall, taller than Brandon had been. But he was lithe as well. He all at once took up less space and more space than one would imagine.

He contemplates for several moments, so long that she nearly thinks he won't reply at all. But finally, a small sigh that was drenched in conflict escaped and he nodded. "Quite well, and quite safe so you have no need to worry."

_No need to worry…_ she felt the fear loosen and an anger tighten instead. She wasn't often angry, it wasn't an emotion that came to her readily but she felt it at those words. "It's hard not to," her voice is tight once more, but harsh instead of meek. "She is my sister and I've had no word of her since the night she left me near a year and a half ago." The words were pointed, and far more bold than Alys has ever previously been. But she meant the harshness beneath them fully. He had no right to decide it wasn't for her to worry over Lyanna, no more than he had the right to take her in the first place.

She looks away then, not wanting her anger to be so readily seen in her eyes when he glanced to her. She focuses instead on the plants around them. She doesn't want to push too far, even in her anger she knew she was walking on dangerous grounds at all moments here.

"Of course." His voice was melodic naturally and but now it sounded flat. Looking from the corner of her eye, Alys notices the torn look to his features. She was unsure how far it was from his usual solemn look he held, but she feels her anger falter only slightly at the possibility that he truly hadn't meant for all the hardship that had come from his choice to run off with Lyanna. "But I wanted to convey to you that she is well, as well as she can be." She nodded tightly and they continued onwards.

The two walked through the paths in quiet for a short bit longer, and after he escorted her back to her room in the Maiden Vault. He didn't say any more on Lyanna, and she didn't ask though her heart yearned to hear anything more. He didn't mention her father and brother, didn't even allude to their deaths and his fault in it. She felt the anger burn in her core as his silence on it all rang like a bell around them.

He didn't speak until they were outside her door. "I hope you understand," He starts, his violet eyes boring into her grey. A flash of something like conflict passes through them and Alys wonders how much of Lyanna he sees when he looks to her. "This wasn't all for nothing. Everything will be made right soon enough. I swear that." She stares at him, the words floating through her head and settling as he bows his goodbye. She waits, watching him disappear around the corner before she releases a shallow breath and pushes through her door.

* * *

Alys startles slightly at Jaimes figure sat all too leisurely on her chair before the fireplace. "What are you doing?" She asks, her voice still tense from her walk with Rhaegar.

"Waiting for you." He tells her, his eyes studying her in a way that makes her feel all too fragile in that moment. She recalls their own tight silence before the prince entered the scene and looks away from Jaime to walk towards her desk, settling her cloak on the chair and moving the chess set where she likes it kept.

"Why?" she asks after a beat.

She glances just in time to see him shrug, "what did the prince want?" She moves across the room to the chair by him, settling into its cushions and sighing.

"I… I don't know." She purses her lips and looks to her hands upon her lap, "I suppose to see how I fared, and tell me that… well it was almost like an apology I suppose."

"Almost?"

"He didn't say any apologies. Just that it wasn't for nothing, and that things will be made right."

"Did he mention your sister." She looks to Jaime, his eyes held tight upon her in cautious study and she nods.

"I asked, he answered. Rather vaguely."

"You don't look satisfied." Jaime tries to play the words as jest, but he was all to close to the truth for it to feel joking.

"How could I be?" She lets out a breath that was far shakier than she'd like. "He told me that I had no reason to worry for my sister." She shakes her head, "if your sister, your twin, was missing and the man who was primarily responsible told you not to worry, how would you feel?"

Jaime looks away, to the unlit fire before them and his eyes seem to darken as he contemplates that. "I'd hate it." He looks back to her, his face utterly serious and his voice dark with it, "and I'd likely kill the man responsible."

_Like Brandon had_, she thinks. _"I'll kill him, I don't care that he's the prince, I'll kill him."_ Brandon had been raving when Lyanna hadn't turned up, raving when the prince was mentioned in the area. Alys hadn't known what to do, she didn't know whether she should say what she knew. She doubted even now that it would have helped anything, it may have made things worse for all she knows. Brandon had sat atop his horse outside the red keep, his men and her around him, with his sword drawn and calling for Rhaegar to fight him. He'd been ready to kill or be killed for Lyanna.

He was killed for what Rhaegar and Lyanna had done.

"He didn't even mention my father or brother." Her voice is quieter as she lets the thought ring out loud. "I don't know if I would have felt better or worse if he had. But in the end he apologized for nothing in truth. Not for running away with Lyanna, and not for what it caused."

Jaime meets her eyes and they soften into the look that makes her feel far too fragile once more. She was angry again she supposed, still a foreign and strange feeling to her that burned inside her. But a feeling that must have been building for a while. How long could someone go with injustices around them before they felt anger, felt hatred. She supposes having one of the primary reasons for all that had gone wrong before her had been the tipping point.

"He said it wasn't for nothing. But it feels like it was for nothing. My father and Brandon died for nothing more than the prince and my sisters silly whims." Her voice is harsh once more, dipped in a anger and sounding foreign to her own ears with the tone of it.

"Alys," Jaime's voice was both comforting and warning, his hand moving to grab her own bunched upon her lap.

"Do you think Lyanna knows?" She asks, "knows what happened because of the choices she made?" She feels guilt mingle with the anger at her harshness towards her own sister. But the anger was there, directed towards her twin who'd run off.

"I don't know." Jaime responds.

"I can't imagine how she'd stay away if she did." Alys shakes her head, "she wouldn't.." She wanted to believe it, believe that if Lyanna knew what befell her family she'd run home as fast as she could, she'd fight if she had to.

"People can do strange things for love." Jaime's words fall upon her and she feels strange conflict at the words.

Did Lyanna love Rhaegar? She hardly knew him when she ran away. She'd met him three times perhaps, at least that was what Alys knew. But she'd lamented to her that she'd rather marry him than Robert. She'd said as much only a few days before she'd left.

"Does that mean she loved him more than her family?" the words escape without thought, "she left with him. That means she either cared more for him and herself than for us. Or she didn't think about the consequences for us. Either way…" either way her father and brother died. Either way Alys was still with anger that mingled with the reminder of her grief.

She hates the feeling of anger.

Nearly as much as she hates the feeling of grief.

"I didn't think about the consequences of joining the kingsguard." Jaime breaks her silence. "I had reasons for it. Reasons I thought were good and worth any consequence they'd bring." She meets his eyes and find them lost in thought. She feels so deeply a want to know what runs behind them in that moment. "Then I joined, and the consequences I hadn't seen unraveled around me and it was no longer worth what I thought it would be."

"So you regret it?" Alys asks.

"Yes." His voice is blunt, and he doesn't look at her as he says it. "Perhaps your sister does as well."

He looks to meet her eyes and they just sit in each others stares for a moment. Alys feels her anger lessen, or perhaps it simply moves away for some other time. Regardless she welcomes the calm that Jaime brings, and she settles in the friendlier silence that encapsulates them now.

* * *

**Thank you all for reading! Let me know what you thought, I love seeing all of the comments. **

**I've been doing an OC Halloween challenge for October on t****umblr**** that has been loads of fun if you want to see some more content from me at **

** .com**


	14. Courage to See

_**Jaime**_

When Jaime entered the council chambers and took his post to guard the king he saw the usual assortment of people. All the council members in their usual seats, the pyromancer that Aerys favored the most stood off to the side by the wall watching the discussions taking place, and Chelsted was stood by where Aerys sat at the head of the table. The prince stands on the opposite side of the king and was speaking rather pleadingly to his father.

"The best chance will be if you send the letter yourself. Not me, not Chelsted again, you." His voice was strained and he was wearing his armor already, prepared to leave by midday with the army and the remaining kingsguard save Jaime. "He was your friend, and the best hand you've had in all your reign."

So they were speaking of his father, Jaime thought. His father who had sat in the Westerlands with his army watching from a distance while the kingdom turned to war and waiting to see which way the wind would blow. "He also has the strongest army available to us, making him our best chance at squashing the rebels quickly." Chelsted also seemed imploring in his speaking, apparently not even caring that he should have been slightly insulted at the fact that Tywin was called his best hand while the man is still currently in the position.

"He should have joined our cause already," the kings voice is sharp as the blades of his throne, and he coughed slightly after. His eyes beading and darting about the room for sign of betrayal. "It's treason enough that he's waited this long. Sitting on his rock of gold and watching as my kingdom is taken from me." The king was more paranoid than ever since Stoney Sept, more sure that Robert Baratheon and his rebel companions was the biggest threat his house has faced in generations.

"Things weren't left well when he resigned," Rhaegar tries to explain, and Jaime feels the princes violet eyes flick towards him. "But he was still your friend for the longest time, and is still loyal to the crown." Jaime wonders at that. Perhaps his father was loyal, but he has always been more loyal to himself and the Rock, more loyal to their own interests. "He has reason to defend you and your crown." Eyes again flick to Jaime and he feels a sudden bitterness bloom out from his chest as he stares resolutely forward, straining to not show his feelings about what the prince implied on his face.

"Send word, father, please." The prince begs once more, it wasn't a pitiful sound like one would think a prince begging would be. It was concern and frustration and the melancholy that was always present to Rhaegars voice. "If the rebels manage past us and past the trident before we can confront them in battle I would feel more secure leaving knowing that the city was defended by a strong army. That our family is secure and safe from threat of siege."

The silence that follows is long, every eye on Aerys to see how he answers. But a shred of sanity seems to strike the king as his eyes fall upon his son. Eyebrows narrowed seconds before faltering slightly while he nods and motions at Chelsted. "Bring me a quill then, go on now." His voice was harsh and he writes the letter quickly before sealing it himself with shaky hands.

The king was left alone in the room after it was done, the council heading to their individual duties and Chelsted heading to most like cry in fear in his rooms. At least that was Jaime imagined the man doing, the stress of the position didn't agree with him and Jaime often wondered if the man would faint or vomit whenever he is with the king.

Jaime exits as well, just for a moment to catch the prince before he departs the hall outside the council chambers. "I wanted to ask that you take me with," his voice was more pleading than he'd like, but he didn't care enough to mask it. He was pleading. He was begging for the prince to leave some other guard behind instead, to let him leave this blasted city and this mad king and to do something that mattered. He wanted to hit something with his sword, to dive into the thrill of battle and blood and war.

But the prince looked, his eyes sad whether because of Jaime or because that was just how his eyes are, and shook his head. "You have to stay, Ser Jaime." The princes voice was serious, deathly so, and Jaime wanted to hit something as he spoke. "Its my fathers wishes, to keep you close."

_He wishes me here in the capital as a hostage, collateral against my father if he joins the rebels._ Jaime thinks it all bitterly. "Please." He says once. He would only say it once, it was all his pride could allow.

The prince looks away and his head shakes once more. "Things will be made better, when I return, I swear." Jaime recalls Alys telling him that what the prince had said exactly that to her. He was saying it to him now, and perhaps he says it to all the hostages they hold. "But until then I need you to do your duty. Protect the king and queen, protect my wife and children." Rhaegar was looking straight into his eyes and Jaime wanted to shake his head but he nodded instead.

"I'll do my duty," he assures his voice low and bitter sounding but honest.

Rhaegar nods and he's about to leave when he pauses, hesitation in his step before adding. "Keep Alys out of any trouble until I return, away from my father. She's too valuable to lose at the moment." Jaime felt the violet eyes on him again as he nodded, they stared and studied him and he felt more exposed then he ever enjoyed feeling so he bowed lightly and turned from the prince then to return to his position guarding the king.

* * *

It seemed the prince's renewed absence from court began the rise of tensions within the Red Keep. That and the general consensus that whatever happens when the Prince's forces meet with the Rebels will be the deciding factor for this war. Which meant that many at court were worrying over what would happen if the prince lost.

Jaime knew many worried particularly about how the king would react to his sons loss. Would he topple over the edge of his madness and burn the city to the ground before letting the rebels come? Would it snap him back into some semblance of sanity and clarity that would help him rule better?

Truly no one knew. Not even Jamie who spent near every waking hour he had nearby the king. Silently guarding, occasionally listening as the king meets with Chelsted, and the council and his gaggle of pyromancers who've become a near constant within the Red Keep, setting everyone even more on edge with the ease at which the kings beloved wildfire could be pulled forth.

Jaime wasn't blind to it either. He saw the worry etched near constant on Chelsted's face every time the Pyromancer Rossart whispered something to the king. He saw the blanched look that covered the kings hand when the sickly green liquid placed upon the council table.

It seemed something was beginning to rise within the cowardly hand as he slowly seems to notice the increase of attendance that the pyromancers have with the king, the fire enthralled men having more and more meetings with only the king outside the council chambers. Leaving the hand unsure what it was the king was discussing with them.

Even Jaime didn't know. He was ordered outside the door and hadn't enough curiosity within him towards the kings wildfire love to strain to listen through the door of his rooms. But even Jaime was feeling the rise of worry at the frequency of it.

This tension built and built for near a week when it finally exploded like the sickly green liquid is often to do.

It starts outside the council chambers. The king and his pyromancers gathered inside. Jaime opens the door for Chelsted and follows him in. The hand had appeared, pacing through the halls before stopping before the door and forcing his way in. His face red with worry and eyes fearful but somehow resolute all the same. It was the boldest Jaime had seen the man be.

When he stopped at the end of the table opposite of Aerys, Jaime saw the mans eyes widen as he looked. Following his gaze Jaime could tell why.

The king and pyromancers were around the table, a map of the city open and small little green rocks put at spots too organized to be random. Jaime wasn't an idiot, regardless of what some may think, and he knew strategy well through years of it being drilled by his father. The green little rocks were placed in specific spots, and he knew they were meant to represent caches of wildfire. Placed in their strategic spots, if they all were to go off it would mean destruction for the city.

Jaime struggles to keep his face clear as Chelsted shakes his head towards the king.

The man tries to reason first with the king. Telling him there were better strategies to defend the city should Rhaegar fail to push back the rebels. Then he attempts to jest, but no joke could be truly found and made. He pleads, implores that the king not doom a city to ash when they could defend it. He tries to reason still, saying all sorts of plans to build the cities defense that involved anything but wildfire.

He reasoned to a man without reason. Pleaded to a man who has been deaf to pleas for years. And finally he looks down, dejected and dismayed before tearing the chain of hands about his neck from it. He tossed it so it skidded across the tabled, the thing crumpling the map and knocking about the stones until it stopped before Aerys.

Aerys's was still and silent for once, no shaking or cackling. "Treason." His voice rasped. "A treasonous hand like all the others." His eyes stared darkly towards the man, his thin and scarred finger pointed and ordered. "Take him to the black cells."

And Jaime did. Two of the pyromancers left with him leaving only Rossart at the Kings side and Jaime escorted the former hand steadily down through the keep before depositing him into a cell.

The man didn't thrash or fight. He didn't plead with Jaime. He was simply silent, and when Jaime looked at him sat in the filth of the cell he saw that the mans eyes were clear with acceptance of all that would come of this.

He'd known what would happen. And yet the man Jaime had believed so craven had found the courage to try.

_**Alys**_

Anytime the court was called with the king upon his chair Alys always felt a built tension of dread low in her stomach.

This day was no different.

Stood beside Elia, with Rhaenys between the pair of them she watched the king eye the crowd with suspicion and madness in his darkly purple eyes. The queen was stood nearby the throne, her own face set with stoney solemness as she watched the crowd gather about the throne room. Alys hoped, despite the uselessness of it, that perhaps this wouldn't be bad.

But that hope was squashed full and final as the doors behind them open and Qarlton Chelsted was brought into the room by two gold cloaks. As he was pulled along understanding crashed over the crowd around Alys, she studied the faces and saw the silent preparations they all made to face another burning. She steeled herself best she could, clasping her hands tight ahead of her and remembering Jaime's words of advice.

_Go away inside._ He'd told her that after the tourney feast. When the serving boy had burnt and she was forced into being just another person who could do nothing to help, could just stand amongst the rest of court to see it.

She tried, tried to turn her thoughts towards anything but the poor man being deposited center before the king.

But she couldn't. She looked at him and knew she couldn't ignore what he was going through.

She couldn't do anything to stop it. But she couldn't let his death be ignored and hidden from thought. He didn't deserve that anymore than he deserved what was coming, no one deserved that.

The king called words of treason, as he always does, and Alys keeps her gaze upon Chelsted. Watching him stand tall and resolute, she recalled Jaime's observations of the hand. Calling him spineless, but the man was standing there as brave as any could be when knowing the sort of death they faced here. Alys whispered a prayer in her mind for him, for it to go quick so he would not suffer long.

She was drawn from her prayers by Rhaenys's hesitant voice, it was quiet, she was aware enough to know not to draw attention. "What is that?" She was looking towards the green jar held by one of the pyromancers, a man who was now weighed down with the chain of hands that Chelsted had worn. "Mama?" Rhaenys's voice as wavered, she didn't know what was happening but she was aware of the way the room's atmosphere has turned, aware of the dire situation around them.

Alys looks quickly to Elia, grabbing the other woman's hand and drawing her back a bit through the crowd, her other hand gently taking a hold of Rhaenys's arm. "This isn't something she should see," she whispers the words quick to Elia, whose darks eyes are wide as she processes what Alys is saying. She nods, "come on." Alys tells her her, leading the two through the edge of the crowd, moving quiet and quick so not to draw attention from the king.

Though she doubts she'd be able to even if she shouted. His eyes were stuck on Chelsted, who was shoved to his knees as the pyromancer hand poured the sickly green liquid upon him, his own eyes shining as bright as the sickly liquid. Alys notes that Chelsted was shaking now, but he kept his head up, staring at the king whose lips were twisted in a smile.

Alys pushes Elia and Rhaenys through the doorway that will lead them towards Maegor's holdfast. "I'll be behind you in just a moment," she tells Elia before releasing her hand and sending her along with Rhaenys. Alys turns on her heel and stands by the doorway, her eyes resolutely on Chelsted once more.

She winces, against her own trying, as the flames are ignited and his screaming begins. But she doesn't look away, she can't. She won't. A man is dying from injustice, same as her father and brother had. She will not leave him to die with only the audience of those who ignore it and those who smile and cackle upon their throne of swords.

She watches, prayers to the old and new running through her mind as his screams echo in tandem with the cackle of the king, the sounds punctuating the otherwise silent space. She watches until the screams end and the body slumps over, green flames still flicking and lighting the space. She watches until they are put out and the court dismissed.

She stays, hidden in the shadows by the doorway as the rest of court pushes away from the room after the kings dismissal. They leave quick, wishing to push what little had penetrated their avoidance with nicer things about the Red Keep. All of court quick to leave the room that smelled of ash and death, all but Alys.

She stays until the ashes are taken and only leaves once the kings cackling had turned to coughs and he moves off his sword throne.

She turns, not wanting his eyes upon her, and prays under her breath all the way to Elia's rooms. Prays for Chelsted and that he finds peace after the horror of life.

_**Jaime**_

Following the king through the halls of his keep following Chelsteds burning is rather mindless for Jaime. He moves with little thought as the king returns to his chambers for his dinner, eating smoked meats and drinking fine wine with little thought towards the man who had burnt before him. Or perhaps Aerys did think of his former hand, but his thoughts were that of pleasure and triumph in his twisted mind.

Jaime knew before the king had even left his chambers where they would go this evening. He followed, slow and steady, as the king headed towards the queens chambers. They've slept separate for years, and even their days were spent separate unless otherwise required. The queen avoided her king unless necessary. And like all times before where the king had burned a man earlier in the day tonight found the king visiting his queen.

The king enters, and Jaime takes his post stood outside the door. He goes to where he always does on nights like these. Thought turning to Cersei at Casterly Rock and the pleasure and love he feels there. Letting those memories and imaginations fill him so he doesn't think upon what is occurring behind the door to his back.

But it seems his mind is clearly struggling today. The thoughts of Chelsted stood before the king and chained before the king penetrate his delicate attempts of avoidance. The smell of him still lingered, even hours later and the sounds of his screams ring in Jaimes ears like a bell.

The bell of Chelsted now mingles with the sound of the queens cries through the door. "You're hurting me," her voice is unrefined this night, none of the power it typically holds during the day when she is far from her mad king. It is fearful and pained and struggling.

The sound of it hit and rung Jaimes head worse than the screams of death and pain that Chelsted had echoed in the throne room. It hit Jaime the way a sword would, deep and stinging and sure to leave a scar. He tries, hard, to turn his mind away. To ignore the sounds of pain and suffering that echo from past and present.

He tries to think of Cersei but even that can't protect him from what is around him.

He recalls, without thought or meaning, Alys after the tourney. She'd asked him how he managed it, the horrors of court that came with a king whose madness lead him to lust for fire and death. She'd told him she didn't think she could just ignore it like he'd told her to. He'd spotted her today, no one to drag her from the scene before it unfolded like he had at the tourney. No, he'd spotted her stood near a doorway, as though she'd been about to rush from the scene but had decided against it.

Why had she decided against it? How had she managed that? He'd spotted her still and staring, not at nothing or some random stranger or him. But at Chelsted, her eyes were clear and focused upon the man burning.

Jaime had never managed that. He'd never watched.

He always ignored it. He'd always gone away inside himself. Gone to Cersei or Tyrion or Casterly Rock.

Like he is trying to do now as the queens screams turn to whimpers.

No, that wasn't true. He'd tried once to not ignore it. Early in his position as a kingsguard, after he saw his first man burn by the king. The first night guarding outside the queens chambers while the king visited her with a lust in his eyes and ashes still clung to his skin. Darry had been stood with him, staring blankly to the wall opposite while Jaime had winced to the sounds.

He'd hated the sound then as much as he does now. After several moments of the queens cries and protestations of pain he'd finally been driven to say, "we are sworn to protect her as well." The kingsguard were sworn to protect the whole of the royal family.

But Darry had simply continued to stare at the wall while stating to Jaime, "we are." His voice was almost strained with trying to be plain, "but not from him."

Jaime hadn't understood that night why Darry had seemed to dejected. But now, over two years into his service as a kingsguard he was no different to Darry. He was stood, outside the queens door unable to do anything.

His vows as a knight would have him protect the queen, protect Chelsted, protect any who the king burned without reason.

But his vows as a kingsguard kept him still as the queen quieted behind the door. His vows as a kingsguard have him protecting the mad man who who exits the chambers, has him following behind all the way to his own chambers and protecting him until the gold-cloaks come to take over for the night while he sleeps.

They conflict. They always have. Vows to protect the innocent conflicting with vows to protect a man who deems everyone guilty.

Jaime leaves with the weight of these conflicts upon him. His mind both void and filled with too much to truly want to deal. He moves in his motions, going to the White Sword Tower where is is the only remaining resident. He drops his armor and collapses to his bed but sleep doesn't come to him.

He lingers in his bed while his mind becomes a tangled web of conflicting vows and horrors ignored. He's unsure how long he lays there, perhaps less than an hour though it felt like a dozen. But his body eventually moves him, standing him and leading him to wander for some time.

He doesn't think when he makes it to the secret door in the Maiden Vault that he'd found the night of the kings tourney. He pushes it open without thought either, slipping in and following the same path he'd taken a few times before until he's pushing on another panel and slipping into Alys's room.

The hearth is still lit, lighting the room in a flicker of orange light. He spots Alys quick, sat at a small table running a brush through her hair while staring rather blankly at a flickering candle beside her. She looks up as the stone shifts, her eyes catching him and widening slightly as he slips into the room and shuts it behind him. Letting the tapestry that covers it fall back as he sidles into the space in front of the hearth.

"Jaime?" She questions, her eyes curious and concerned as they study his form. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, though it feels tense to him as he wanders towards the small chess set on the chaise at the foot of her bed. He fiddles with one of the knight pieces while speaking, "I couldn't sleep." He states it plainly, as though his mind weren't filled with dour things.

She nods though, as though that makes as much sense as anything. "I don't imagine I'll be able to get much tonight either." She admits with a soft voice, "you're welcome to stay in here the evening. I'd appreciate the company." She says it as though she'd invited him in the first place. As though he hadn't just shown up through a hidden door and intruded in her space.

He nods with feigned consideration, "Yes well, very well." He settles onto one end of the chaise and glances towards the fire in the hearth instead of continuing to watch Alys in her nightly rituals. But it isn't long before she's beside him, moving the chess set to the ground and sitting next to him with eyes of grey staring curiously at him.

They sit like that for several minutes. Her eyes never leaving him and his never leaving the fire. He knows what he'd see if he looked to her. Pain and fear left behind from the burning today, likely the same sight he'd seen the evening of the tourney when she'd asked him to come back to her room after his shift. Her eyes would be grey and like melting ice. Perhaps some tears welled in the corners threatening to fall as she dealt with the horror of the day.

"Jaime?" Her voice finally draws him to look, a soft and questioning sound. He looks at her and its not the sight he expected. Her eyes are grey and soft like snow that one could fall into like a pillow. Her face isn't twisted with fear and pain and conflict, no it's just a beacon of concern all directed towards him. His own mouth twists down with the sight and he almost dislikes the feeling of pity that he imagines she holds. What reason would she have to pity him?

He's about to tell her as much, snap off and harsh but instead he's interrupted. A soft hand on his arm and a softer voice inquiring with genuine worry laced throughout, "are you okay?"

He should tell her yes. He should brush her hand and worry off him and hold his head high and leave. He can nearly hear his father's voice echoing in his mind telling him that Lannisters show no weakness to anyone, especially those outside their house. Weakness isn't allowed, only strength and pride. But he looks at her and his mind races through the sounds of Chelsted and the worse sounds of the queen and his chest falls with the need to hold himself to his fathers standards in this moment. "No," he states it rather sardonically with a sharp chuckle after another second, "No I am quite not okay." He sighs and shakes his head at it all, "how is it that I'm not? I make it two years of this and break over some cowardly man who walked into his own death of his own accord?"

"It's natural to break at some point," Alys tells him, her honest eyes not shying away from his own cynical ones. "It means your human, and have a heart."

"Pssh," he shakes his head again, looking away from her eyes and to the fire. "My father would tell you otherwise. Lannisters do not break, if they do they're weak and it shall not be tolerated."

"Your father is wrong," Alys says it, clear and sure and he barks out a laugh at her firm defiance towards his father. It makes Jaime wonder what an interaction between the two of them would be, his father would likely look to Alys and see a pawn. A weak one.

But Alys seems to care little for what Tywin Lannister would think as she continues on, "you're not weak for feeling something about what's happening here. You aren't weak for feeling."

Jaime peers back at her and knows just by sight that she believes it fully. He also knows that she's surprisingly put together this evening. How odd? That he would be tumbling while she stands tall. "You don't seem so affected today? Found a way to ignore it this time?"

She smiles, small and solemn at him, but utterly for him he realizes. It's not a smile for her, but but him. To assure him. "No. Quite the opposite in truth." She admits, "I watched, I didn't look away. I couldn't let him die without someone seeing him."

Jaime almost laughs, but it comes out choked and he shakes it away. "How odd of you. Watching a man die so he wouldn't feel lonely."

"I would want it if it were me." She says the words gently and it pulls at him, at his pieces that had grown loose with the queens cries.

"It won't be." He says it without thought or hesitation. "It won't."

His words draw a curious look across Alys's face as her head tilts. She studies him more, her brows scrunched and her eyes flicking across his face. "I thought I was doomed?"

"You'll be fine." He says it because he needs too. For her, and for him it seems. Odd… how utterly odd. He shouldn't need to, he shouldn't be saying it. He shouldn't be here seeking her company, but he can't bring himself to leave. "You've lasted this long." He adds it with a shrug, hoping to sway away the seriousness of his words and the vulnerability they've brought upon him.

"I have." She nods considering, "so have you." She adds, her hand where it still rests on him tightens in a reassuring squeeze.

"Yes, well, we are in similar boats after all." He recalls the prince and his words from a few weeks back. "You are kept here to keep the north in check, and I am a glorified guard whose true purpose here has always been in some way related to my father. First to spite him by taking the prized heir of the Rock and now as collateral depending on which way my father decides to send his army."

Alys watches him again, mulling over his words for a few moments of quiet before sighing. "Well, people in our position should stick close. Take comfort in similar situations." She smiles while saying it, offered to him and he sighs and takes it. "You'll be fine." She echoes his words back to him, her hand squeezing again.

"I feel quite useless," he admits, "here in this keep I feel utterly useless." He's utterly bitter as well, but that was a feeling he knew and understood. "I asked the prince to take me with when he left. At least out there I would have some use and purpose. Here there is nothing, I can do nothing," Alys is still as she listens, and she nods slightly at his words. "It's quite a cruel joke this kingsguard position." He glances down to where the chess set sits upon the floor, his eyes studying the little pieces and settling on one of the knights. "You have to be a knight to swear the vows of a kingsguard, but once you swear these new vows you must all but give up the old ones." He laughs a little, "protect the king and his secrets. Protect the innocent but not from those in power, protect the queen but not from the king." He recalls Rhaella's voice, her cries and his laugh turns bitter and he sighs. "Do you know what the king does after a burning?" He looks to Alys now and watches her shake her head lightly, but her eyes don't leave him. No, they watch and welcome whatever he is to say, whatever he needs to say. "No, of course not." He says it more bitter than he means but Alys doesn't flinch from his tone, "you're far enough from her rooms here in the Maiden's Vault. Sound carries well in the keep, but you're far enough to not hear her screams on these nights." He grinds his jaw at the echoing memories, "perhaps it would be easier to ignore if I weren't right outside the door."

"Jaime…" Alys's voice cuts the echoes, and she's turned more towards him. Opening her self it seems to comfort him. "It's not your fault what happens."

"No," he shrugs. Bitter. All of him bitter. "It's not, but some _vows_ would dictate otherwise. I hear her screams but can do nothing because I made bigger more important vows to the man who causes them."

"If you did something would it stop? Or would it get you killed and continue anyways?" He meets her gaze and he feels as though she's willing him to keep it. "You swore all these vows, that's true, but when you swore your vows to Aerys you had no way to know what it would truly mean." She imploring him to listen and he does, his mind quiet as her voice cuts the echoes. "Besides, you keep them as much as you're able. You've helped me, and if it truly seemed possible I know you'd help the queen. Or anyone who needs it." She sighs, her eyes not leaving his but for a moment as she shuts them, thinking on her words or the day or any number of things hidden behind her shut eyes. "It's not your fault for what happens. You are not the one passing the sentence to burn a man alive, or the one going into the queens chambers and causing her pain. The fault lays one place, and its a place that neither you nor I can affect." She moves her hands, taking one of his and squeezing it tighter than she'd squeezed his arm. "We can only just try to survive. And do what little we can where we can even if it seems pointless."

_Chelsted did what little he could, despite it being pointless and leading to his own death._

Jaime doesn't nod, but he doesn't look away from her. Hoping that's enough to let her know he understands her words. Because a part of him does, a part of him listens at a fundamental level to Alys and her attempts at comforting him and understands it. "This is all quite odd right now." He admits after moments of silence between them. "Usually you are the blubbering mess and I am the one forced to offer comfort."

Alys smiles, "you are not forcing me to comfort you." She tells him it like its all the truth needed, "I care about you Jaime, you have been a friend to me here. A true one. Sure you were harsh at times… but I believe it was what I needed. It would do me no good to be hidden from the truth of this place." She tightens her grasp on his hands, "you were honest, and when it came to it you were good to me. Comforting me when I needed it, but always honest as well. It is no difficulty for me to offer what I can."

He sighs and nods, "well you make it all quite hard if I'm honest." She smiles again, puzzling his mind but settling it's echoes still. "Annoying if I'm honest. Couldn't just let me be."

"Thank you, Jaime," she tells him, "for letting me annoy you into being my friend."

He waves his free hand and sighs. He doesn't say any more, and neither does she. Instead they sit, her hands still gripping his one. After several minutes of watching the fire die and the silence grows around them like a heavy, but comforting, blanket he notes her yawn in the corner of his eye.

"I'll leave you be now," he remarks, "you look one blink away from passing out." She shakes her head at him with a smile. "Come on," he stands, pulling her with him and motioning towards the bed. "I've had my breakdown, it's over and I can move back to being the prideful lion my father wishes for." She almost nods, but it stops as soon as it starts and she just looks to him for a moment. She worries at her bottom lip while she does, and he can see she's wanting to inquire after something. "What?" He asks, he should leave, because though he is still unsure whether he will be capable of getting any sleep he should at least leave Alys to her own slumber.

"You can stay," she finally tells him, "if you can't sleep. I have trouble to most nights." She shrugs and shifts on her feet, "but I slept easily the night of the tourney somehow, with you there." She is blushing, he realizes with a curious enjoyment. "Perhaps it'll help you as well?"

He barks a laugh, but its gentler than his ones from earlier, "how scandalous Lady Stark." But he's moving towards her bed without thought, motioning her to get into it herself. "What would the ladies of court think?"

She rolls her eyes at him as she crawls beneath her covers, "what does it matter?" She surprises him by saying, "you are a man sworn to celibacy and I am a hostage who'll be pawned to the best option when it suits the crown." She smiles though, and their isn't any hurt in her words at her statement of what is likely to come if her brother loses. "So," she pats the bed beside her and to Jaime's surprise he hesitates only a moment before climbing upon it. He doesn't go beneath the covers, but she does reach up to the end of the bed where a spare blanket rests and pulls it over him.

He settles there beside her on his back. He hasn't slept in the same bed as someone since Cersei, a night long ago where she'd whispered to him their fathers plans and her own. But this was different, utterly different, from that night. In actions and in feelings. Alys curled slightly against him, but not so much that she was pushing into his space. Though, a strange part of him finds that he wouldn't mind it.

He settles enough that his own mind starts to drift, his eyes closing to the dim light of the room. The only sound of the room was the last dying embers of the fire and Alys's steadying breathing. He thinks her asleep after not too long until she whispers gently against his arm, "I'm glad you didn't go with the prince." She says it so quiet he wonders if she wants him to even hear it or if she's saying it to herself. "I know you hate staying here, but I would hate having to worry over you against my brother out there." He peaks his eyes open and peers down at her, one of her hands have wrapped gently around his arm, the other is tucked against her face. Her eyes are shut lightly and there is only the slightest bit of worry evident between her brows. He recalls, as the worry fades with sleep, a conversation over chess a week ago upon the princes arrival. She'd asked with hesitance whether he was traveling with the prince, and had gone quiet when he'd voiced his displeasure at not being chosen to go.

He hadn't realized what her quietness had been then. He'd only been wanting to go with the prince to battle, he hadn't considered who he'd be going against, or how Alys would see it. It hadn't mattered in truth to him, all he'd wanted was to fight. To swing his sword with meaning in a battle of blood and power. It didn't matter who he swung that sword against, at least it hadn't.

Now he realized that when he'd mentioned that wish to Alys she'd been thinking of her brother. That that is likely all she thinks of when talk of a battle to come is brought forth. When Rhaegar spoke to her in that garden she'd probably thought about how he'd be leaving to fight her brother. That in a few weeks time they could hear that the prince had killed Eddard Stark.

Perhaps, when the mention of him going to battle came up she was worried about Jaime getting killed, or perhaps she was more worried about him killing her brother. Or perhaps, somehow in some queer way, she was worried about both situations. Perhaps she was grateful that he wouldn't be adding to her list of people to worry after.

It didn't completely abate his bitterness at being left behind in Kings Landing. But it did temper it slightly as his own eyes shut and he drifted off to sleep with the feel of Alys tucked against his arm.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Sorry for the long wait but this chapter for whatever reason was a bit hard to write. But hey, it's one of the longest chapters so I hope that makes up for it! ****I'm hoping to get the next update out quicker.**

**Thanks for your comments I really appreciate them all and its some of the most motivating stuff.**


	15. The Trident

Banners of wolf and eagle and stag fly across a camp hidden some way north of Trident, not far from the crossroads. The rebel forces waiting for word of the Royalist army lead by the dragon prince Rhaegar to come to the crossing. The camp is restless as the night passes, the looming threat of a battle upon the horizon clear in the way the men move about the grounds through the evening firelight. Some drink, some sleep, some find some comfort in the arms of others. Some just sit, with the thoughts of the day to come, the day that could be the last for many of the men around them.

Eddard Stark sits surrounded by Northmen. Nearby him a man he considers a secondary father figure sits with some of his own men beside him, Jon Arryn looking over the map of the area where it lays out on the table in front of him. Closer still to Ned sits Robert, a man he considers a brother, drinking heavy and laughing jovially with the others around him, lifting the spirits beyond the nerves that rest heavy in them all.

Ned drinks himself, a flagon of beer cradled in his hands where a sword will likely take residence the next day. He sips and listens as the men around him talk, Robert leading the majority of the conversation surrounding them. Night continues further and Ned makes his way to Jon, who has given up the map for a tired look that he shares with the auburn haired Hoster Tully beside him.

"Word of Rhaegars forces," Jon informs his former ward, glancing to the map once more, "near Maidenpool, it seems they are resting as well for the evening."

"The royalists that have recuperated from the Stoney Sept have been joined by Dornish men and others from the Crownlands." Hoster speaks, "words also come that a host from the Reach has joined them at Maidenpool as well. The the majority of the Reach is keeping in the Stormlands, preparing to go at Storm's End."

Ned nods, "the Prince?"

"Amongst them." Jon informs, "leading the forces."

"About time," Robert barks, joining the conversation, his head having snapped the three mens direction at mention of Rhaegar. His previously jovial mood having darkened at the thought of the Targaryen Prince. "Hiding about, I'm more than ready to face the damned Prince."

"What happens after?" Hoster inquires, a man keen on looking ahead with the knowledge that most here felt looming around that this battle itself could change much for the Seven Kingdoms.

"What do you mean after?" Robert shakes his head, "we ride to Kings Landing and end the madness."

"Lord Tully is right to wonder, Robert," Jon settles, his tone of the one that both his former wards recognize as one of counseling. "If we are successful and gods willing alive by the next night we have to think of what we'll install once the King and Prince are both dealt with."

"He has another son, perhaps young enough to be taught better," Brynden Tully remarks, he's sat not far from them, but closer to the Lord Arryn than his brother. The two hadn't spoken since the Blackfish took up in service of the Vale Lord. "Or there are the children of Elia and Rhaegar as well, a boy not even a year of age."

Jon seemed to consider, "could be done. Put in a regent of our choosing until the boy's of age."

But Robert just shook his head before spitting a bit to the ground. "I say to hell with them all." He stood, and despite how many drinks he'd had and the flush to his cheeks from it he says clear and concise, "to hell with the dragons and their madness!"

Some men cheered along, raising drinks and shouting their cursing of the house. Ned glanced about, watching as Jon studied Roberts impassioned ranting. "They've taken my sisters. Killed my country-men. Killed my father and brother." He remarks, not the boisterous yelling that Robert possessed but a stonier disquiet. Men looked to him now, "My brother Brandon should be Lord of Winterfell, should be fighting this war, leading these men. But he was killed… for what?" Ned shook his head, "it's all madness."

"Madness indeed my brother," Robert moves, clapping a hand upon Neds shoulder. "Madness that has bred in these Targaryens for generations. How many wars and burnings have we, the people of the Seven Kingdoms, suffered because of these Dragons? Even so long after the source of their rise has died off we continue to suffer and burn." Robert speaks louder, looking over the men gathered. "I say no longer."

"What would you have us do instead?" Jon inquires, it is not malicious or judging. Simply calm and weathered, waiting for Robert to declare it.

"Put someone new, end the damned dynasty that's tormented us all for centuries." Robert declares.

"Who?" Hoster questions.

Quiet settled about the men, looking about but it seemed the answer was already there. Stood and passionate about the fight ahead. "I'll take it." Robert declared, low and smooth voice declaring with the strength of his spirit behind it. "For our people and our losses I'll rid the kingdom of those mad dragons and set us up better."

Several Stormlords cheered, supporting their lord from the start. Robert, despite his bravado and confidence that never truly left him, looked between Jon and Ned both for their support. For those two were the only ones who could see the anxious worry deep within him that they would dispute this proclamation, that they would choose some other path.

But Ned saw in the man who'd become a brother to him no reason he shouldn't support him. He saw a man impassioned for the same justices he wishes as well, justice for Lyanna and Rickard and Brandon and Alys. A man he trusts and loves as dear as family. So he nods, "I'm with you Robert, as I've always been. If you claim it I, the North, will support you."

The Northmen around them nodded, giving their sounds of support behind Ned until Jon clears his throat. "I've not been blessed of yet with children." Jon looks at the two men, Robert stood proud and by all appearance fearless, and Ned sat and serious and watching the Vale Lord. "But the two of you are sons of mine, if not by name or blood than by bond." He stands from his spot and moves before them, "I support you Robert, as though you were of my blood. I will support your claim, from this day till my last."

With the three heads of the Rebellion together, supporting this way ahead the men around them cheered, shouting support of Robert and disparaging the Targaryens they all opposed. More drink was passed about, somewhere in camp music played, and soon enough the moment had passed though the sentiment and meaning did not.

Night continued to pass, people slowly but eventually finding what sleep was left to them. Ned sat, beside Robert and with Jon as the camp settled. He wondered as time passed if they would win, if these declarations would see fruition or if they were to become empty words shouted to the void by the next evening.

* * *

The Trident's waters glinted in the noon sunlight. Blue and shimmering and steady the wide length of the river waited far more patiently in the still air than the army some ways north of its bank.

The army waited, hidden from sight from the southern banks where their enemies would be coming. With bated breath and nerves piling, they waited for the Prince and his forces to make their attempt at crossing the shallow ford of the Trident. Horses of the cavalry snort and paw upon the ground, feeling the anxious anticipation of their riders and the men on foot behind them. Archers count their arrows. And men both of faith and without it pray for success as the hour passes in seemingly agonizing slowness.

Ned Stark sits atop his dappled grey courser, one hand gripping his reins and the other resting anxiously upon the hilt of his sword. He glances up and down the line of men stretching out on either side of him frequently. The grip on his sword is the only tell of his nerves, for he holds his face stoic and back straight for the men who follow him to believe he has no nerves to be found.

Nearby him atop his tall bay destrier Robert Baratheon sits tall, looking to hold far more confidence and far less nerves before the battle than his dearest friend. Robert lives for the fight, he grips his war hammers handle not out of nerves like Ned but out of anticipation. Feeling the grip of it and readying himself for when he'll be swinging it once again as he has already in the previous battles fought in the war. His own eyes, full of light and excitement, survey the land before them waiting for the sight of the scouts sent ahead to bring word of Rhaegars crossing so he can command their force forward and send them after the crossing army.

Somewhere some birds called in the air, horses snorted some more and a man coughed somewhere amongst the sea of them. Ned spotted the rider first, whistling low under his voice to Robert who follows his gaze. The rider makes for them and stops before them.

"They've started crossing the ford," the scout, one of Neds northern men and glancing between the pair of them. "I started this way when they were just past a quarter of the way across, as instructed."

Ned nods, "go down the line, inform Lords Arryn and Tully." The scout nods and kicks his horse into a loping gallop to make his way down the line to where Jon and Hoster sit atop their own horses waiting for the fight.

"Are you ready?" Robert asks, his own form filled with readiness as he sits taller in his saddle and pulls his war hammer from its holster on the side of the horse.

Ned looks to the man who is as close to a brother to him and nods, "though it matters little if I am or not." He looks back straight in the direction they will ride. "This must be done."

"Aye." Robert nods, looking forward himself. They heard the horn, down from where Jon and Hoster were signaling they've received the scouts news. "Good luck to you brother."

"And you." Ned pulls his sword from its scabbard and raises it as Robert edges forward and turns to the men surrounding them his booming voice commands them, and soon war-horns echo throughout the area as Robert calls them into a charge.

Ned doesn't hesitate, his heels digging into his courser and sending it forward as Robert charges off. Others surround them both, a thundering of hooves and metal and shouts of "STARK!" and "BARATHEON!" and "TULLY" and "ARRYN" and more and more names surround them. The thunderous noise echoing and carrying the whole charge over from their hidden spot to the muddy banks of the Trident.

The first of the riders break into sight-lines of the Ford. Horses and men ankle deep in the shallower waters of the Trident making their way across scrambling to prepare for the attack, soon with Rhaegar Targaryen's own voice carrying their call to arms across the waters as he sits atop his black destrier with his sword rising up and signaling them. He glitters like the blue water in his black steel armor, the red of inlaid rubies shimmering and sparkling like fire in the light.

He pushes his horse forward through the men, Ser Barristan and Ser Darry on either side of him atop their own war horses and wearing the gilded armor of the Kingsguard. They drift from his side to flank him as the Rebel riders grow nearer.

The first clash of steel seemed the loudest to Ned, as his sword met another's he steered his horse around to strike once more. A flash of red before he spurred onwards in direction for another. Steel crashing against steel sang around him, the earthy smell of the riverbed mingling with the metallic smell of blood as he fought one after one, pushing his horse forward and forgetting most everything else but the fighting.

Roberts voice was booming as he called his cry for war. His bright blue eyes scanning the mess of the ford for one foe and one foe alone. He swung his hammer at inconsequential men who ran for him, his focus singular as he caught sight of the red cloak emblazoned with a three headed dragon and he spurred his horse hard in the direction of the Dragon Prince.

Lewyn Martell led the men of Dorne across the river towards the left flank. He aimed his spear down at some men of the Vale as he rode his horse about them, cutting them down one after another.

He staggered sideways upon his horse as a knight of the Vale struck his side, swinging his spear around he lodged it within the man's throat and pulled, letting the knight fall from his horse that bolted away with its rider gone. Lewyn felt the burn upon his side, blood seeping through the fabric of his undershirt and between the seams of his armor but he pushed forth, continuing onwards and onwards to assault the left side of the rebels until another knight from the Vale, carrying the sword of his fallen father lead men through to break the line of Dornishmen.

Ser Lyn Corbray charged Lewyn, who fought through the sting of his side and met the man in his own charge. As Ser Lyn's horse ran past Lewyn's own the Vale Knight swung his sword towards the Dornish Prince. Lewyn attempted to dodge, leaning from his saddle to miss the sword. But a spike of pain staggered him and in a second the sword cut up his front and sent him from the saddle. He landed upon the muddy waters of the ford and blinked up at the noon sun, his last thoughts of a fleeting memory of another sunny day spent with a paramour in the city.

Robert's horse thundered through the men of the ford. His warhammer smashing through any who stood between him and the dragon that had enraptured his focus. He shouted "RHAEGAR" loud and booming and gathering the attention of the Prince as he wished. Rhaegar spinning his own horse to charge the Stormlord until the two met in a cacophonous crash of steel and shouts.

Rhaegars sword swung towards Robert, striking across the larger mans side and drawing blood through the steel. But Robert didn't blink as he swung his hammer.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He battered towards the prince, the lithe man steering his horse around and around. The two of them circling one another. Around and around. No attention was paid to the men fighting and dying around them, for the pair it was only them on the ford as the water was churned and sprayed up upon them as they continued around and around.

The Prince dodged swing after swing as Robert raged. Swing missed, and missed, and missed.

Until a swing hit.

The two side by side so close that Robert could feel the Prince's horse flush against his leg. He swung his hammer in an upwards stroke with a ferocious cry of pain and rage and war and it finally hit the prince's chest. Shattering and crushing and sending red rubies shattering and scattering into the muddy water around them.

Rhaegar's black destrier reared. The Prince fell.

Landing into the water with a crash, red seeping from him into the water and swirling through it like the reflection of fire. He gasped, his shattered chest suffocating him as he struggled to stay breathing.

Struggled to stay living.

He could see the sun just barely, but more forbearing was the image of Robert Baratheon astride his horse as seconds ticked by as the life left Rhaegar all at once both slow and quick. His violet eyes shut to the light and the image.

And he thought of many things as the last seconds of his life turned away.

He thought of prophecies and children and legacy.

He thought of Elia and his failures and his hopes for successes.

He thought last of Lyanna, of his hopes that lay with her where he left her.

His last breath comes out in her name.

And over it the booming cry of victory from Robert signals the fall off of the battle. Individuals continue to fight for a few last minutes but it takes very little time for the men who followed the Dragon Prince into this battle to know that it was done.

It was lost for them.

And won for the Rebels.

Ned rode his courser in the direction of his dearest friend, who sat upon his bay destrier in his iron armor with the Stag emblazoned upon it and decorated with the blood of a dragon. His war hammer hung in his hand and he stared at the foe that he'd looked most forward to seeing dead.

The Trident's water was murky, stirred up mud and blood of the fallen swirling through it's shallow depths. Sunlight shone upon it still, bright and warm and glinting upon the armor of the men stood and upon those men submerged. As the battle finished and the men gathered the waters of the ford settled once more into a steady patience for what was next.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**

**I'm sorry for the wait that this chapter took and am grateful for your support and patience! This was probably the most intimidating chapter for me to write just cause writing a battle (especially the Trident) scared me but I'm really happy with how it turned out. Hopefully will get the next chapter out soon (especially with all the free time in quarantine).**

**Thank you for all the follows, favorites, and comments I really do appreciate them all!**


	16. Last Rays of Sun

**_Eddard_**

Rays of sun cut through the canopy of leaves above him, filtering down into the Godswood and lighting it gently in the early morning. A few red leaves filter down in the wind. One falling to his knee where it rests. Ned picks it up delicately, studying it momentarily. He thinks of Winterfell, as the Weirwood leaves easily bring to mind the sprawling Godswood of his youth that he would spend plentiful time within. He recalls early evenings spent with Lyanna swinging her wooden sword at him while Benjen cheered and Alys sat nearby on the edge of the small pool of water, her feet sending waves rippling through the waters. He remembers Brandon coming to them and fetching them all for sleep, carrying Benjen on his shoulders when he was still little enough, the twins rushing ahead arm in arm and Ned behind them all, slower and smiling at his family.

Ned lets out a steadying breath, a hand coming up to run over his face before he stands. There will be time for memories and praying at a weirwood later.

It is the early hours of morning after the battle of the Trident. They are camped around Harrenhal, bringing a strange mix of emotions to Ned as he walks from he sprawling Godswood back towards the melted castle where he's going to find Jon and Robert. Of the three of them Ned and his men were the least injured, and as such Ned was set to leave within the next hour in pursuit of the Royalists who escaped the field.

Jon Arryn was busy with recollecting the force they were left with after the Trident, which was better off than the Royalists had been but still in need of recuperation. Robert, on the other hand, was injured. Not long after the battle had died off had Ned rushed to his friends side as he listed atop his horse, a long slice up his front bleeding through and mingling with the already bloody water of the Trident.

He'd spent most of the evening being looked over by a maester. Not his own, as he'd sent his own maester instead to the sole surviving Kingsguard of the battle. Ser Barristan barely clinging to life when he'd been brought before Robert. Ser Barristan was certainly in a worse shape than Robert, though the three heads of the Rebellion had yet to fully decide what would become of him when he recovered.

Robert already seemed better this morning though, as Ned enters the main hall where Robert sits with Jon, his front bandaged heavily and a loose tunic covering him. He glanced up at Ned and nods, "you leaving soon?"

"After I finish speaking with the pair of you, yes," Ned moves to the table and sees the now familiar sight of a map with different pieces indicating different factions. Some letters sit off to the side by Jon and Robert sighs as he looks it over himself.

"There's been word," Jon starts, a frown to his face more of contemplation than anything. "Tywin Lannister's forces have started moving."

"Towards us or…?" Ned questions.

"Seems they are heading in the direction of the city." Ned gazes over the map, and sees the finely carved lion head upon it. He looks at the distance between those lions and the capital and the distance of his own men.

"It'll be tight." He remarks, "he'll possibly make it before I can get there."

"Yes." Jon's frown deepens. "Our only saving grace in that regard is that he hasn't declared yet which force his army will fight."

"Sitting on his golden ass this whole time," Robert grumbles, "even now, the Prince is dead, his army is limping its way back to the city and still Tywin Lannister doesn't pick a side."

"Could be strategic." Jon offers, "if he declares for us then it's unlikely the city will welcome his army within it's walls."

"We won't know until we face him," Ned settles, voice grim. "I trust the Lannisters to only do what is best for them, if they see gain in defending the city then we have more hard times ahead."

"And if they see it best to join us then they might just make it all the easier." Jon offers.

"I couldn't care less if it's easier or harder," Robert huffs, "so long as this finishes with the Targaryens as dead and gone as their bloody dragons."

Jon and Ned are both quiet, but they nod. "I should get my men ready," Ned says after a few more moments. He looks to Jon and Robert both, "I will get the city ready for you to follow."

Jon nods, reaches over and rests a hand to Ned's shoulder and squeezes before turning back to the letters and maps. Robert smiles, "I know you will, Ned." Robert doesn't stand, the injury on his front keeping him in his chair, instead he reaches grabbing Neds hand in his and squeezes. A flash of a smile blazes upon his face and he jokes, "keep that throne for me, I want to find out if it's as uncomfortable as they all say."

Ned returns the smile, though less fully, before nodding once more to them both and leaving the hall.

He moves for some way in the direction of the doors, but pauses in his step a second before turning and heading deeper into the keep. He moves through the halls, deeper and further until he reaches the farthest rooms where he spots two guards of Jon's outside the door he was seeking. They both nod to him as he enters and he pauses after shutting the door behind him.

The maester is in the room, checking the bandages and shifting through his collection of medicines.

But Barristan is awake at the moment, which if Ned recalls he hasn't been much since he was dragged before Robert.

The older knight was a man likely near Ned's father's age before he died, hair turning white on his head and beard. His eyes, previously closed until the door had shut behind Ned, open to show pale blue eyes that look remarkably tired and sad. They blink at Ned a moment before he starts to push himself up.

"You don't need to strain yourself," Ned remarks, holding up a hand and the knight nods sagging back into the bed. Ned moves closer, standing at the side of the bed and trying to think the best way to ask what he wishes to know.

"You share your sister's eyes," Barristan remarks, his voice rough and deep, and slightly strained in both pain and grief. "I was always sorry for her situation. It…" he pauses, seeming to think on how best to word his sentence. "It wasn't a fair way of things, how it all went."

"How was she?" Ned inquires, his own voice rough with his own grief. "When you last saw her?"

"As well as one would expect in her situation," Barristan says, "good days and bad." He coughs a second, pain clear on his face as he does. The maester tuts at them and pulls out a small vial and mixes it in a goblet of water. "She is a very kind girl, I always found her company pleasant when I was her guard at the beginning." He pauses a second, "She was no longer being guarded during the day when I left, and she's made some friends."

"Friends?" Ned frowned.

"They try to treat her more as a ward of the crown than a hostage," Barristan clears and Ned nods. Recalling that her letter to Benjen— who'd written of what he received to Ned— had described some factor of that. "Some of the queens ladies have taken a fondness for her. Lady Tyrell in particular."

Ned nods again and after a second Barristan adds, "Ser Jaime as well, the pair have become close in his guarding of her."

"Jaime?"

"Lannister." Barristan glances at the maester moves him up enough so he can drink the small goblet easier.

"He needs rest," the maester informs Ned who nods. He has to be leaving anyway.

"Thank you," Ned says, "for being kind to her as it seems you have. And for… for telling me what you could."

"She is an innocent in this all," Barristan states, "I am sorry she has had to suffer as she has." He takes the goblet and drinks slow. Ned nods once more to both the older kingsguard and to the maester before he takes his leave. Barristan already slipping into sleep as the door shuts.

Before long Ned is sat upon his horse and moving even further south with his army behind him. A quick pace ahead of them in hopes of beating the Lannister forces from the west. Or at least to arrive not long after them.

Ned looks forward, towards the horizon where King Landing lies. He thinks of Alys and hopes he sees her soon.

_**Alys**_

Alys was making her way back to her rooms from her evening visit to the Godswood when she hears the news. A pair of ladies are stood in a little balcony off the garden path, they don't see her and as such they don't lower their voices as she passes.

As such she hears them say, "Rhaegar died, Robert Baratheon killed him himself."

Alys's steps faltered at the words, it took all her control to continue forward, to not inquire further about those words. She pushed herself to keep walking and walking until she made it to her rooms. She shuts the door and then just stands, feet planted in the spot right after the doorway and unable to move further as her mind whirs and processes what that all might mean.

It could be false. She could have heard wrong. It could be the other way around and the rebellion is lost.

But she heard it. _Rhaegar died._

Rhaegar is dead.

She presses a hand to her mouth and finds she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry or both.

There's some guilt, at the notion of laughing of another persons death.

But it's more what his death means.

It means the war has truly turned in the favor of her brother. Of the rebellion.

A smile plays at her lips as she lets out a breath of relief, leaning back against the door as her eyes shut gently.

There's worry. That little sentence was all she's heard and so for all she knows her brother could have fallen as well. A thought that sends ice through her veins but she pushes it away, pushes away the threat of grief at just the thought. Until she knows otherwise it is better to believe he made it through the battle that killed Rhaegar. Better to hope than to grieve before it's needed.

She focuses instead on getting ready for sleep, knowing that soon enough Jaime would be joining her and he would be her best chance at finding answers.

Jaime has been sleeping in her rooms since that first night when Lord Chelsted died and Jaime came to her rooms in a state of being that was so unlike what Alys was used to seeing him. It wasn't exactly something they'd spoken and agreed upon, more it just sort of happened. And Alys couldn't bring herself to dislike it. She certainly slept leagues better with him beside her, and she got the distinct feeling that he did as well. It wasn't as though anything untoward occurred, he still never went below her own covers, and the most that occurred was Alys curling against his arm in the evening and waking with it around her.

No, she rather liked it if she was honest.

Liked the comfort and the ease of it with Jaime beside her.

True if it was discovered it would likely cause a scandal, she'd be thought of as ruined and he'd… well she can't imagine much would happen to him. At least until her brothers learned of it, then perhaps there'd be some trouble.

But the fact remained that they _didn't_ do anything. Just slept. It was a fact she could use to settle Ned and Benjen, most likely. Not a fact that would stop rumors of her from swirling if it was discovered, but after the last year she can hardly care much on rumors.

Perhaps it would be smarter to end it, sleep alone even if it's restless sleep.

But she simply does not want to. She finds comfort in it too much.

Though it also has the added benefit of knowing she will be seeing Jaime on the daily. And as such she knows she'll be seeing him today, which will allow her to ask for news and answers to the questions the press on her mind.

Questions that have her pacing the space before her bed until she hears the now familiar slide of stone that indicates Jaime's arrival. She spins to face him and he has a small quirk to his lips at seeing her pacing state before he jests, "I assume you've heard the news then?" Even with the jest she can still hear the tenseness that Rhaegar's death likely has brought to him.

She can't imagine it's easy. He is sworn to protect the royal family. That means Rhaegar as much as it means the King and the Queen.

"I have," Alys confirms, sitting herself before her fire and watching him walk around to join her. He does look tired, she notes, worn out. She imagines the king wasn't pleased.

No that's wrong. Of course the king wasn't pleased, even more than that most likely. Grief likely plagued him, and the queen. Their eldest son has died…

Alys feels a pang of guilt stir in her chest as she realizes she is pleased that Rhaegar fell.

It seems that guilt shows to her face as Jaime nudges her, "you're allowed to be happy."

"People are dead…" She swallows harshly and frowns. "That is no reason for glee."

"Your father and brother are dead," He reminds, perhaps harshly as it does make her shoulders drop and her eyes shut, "the king was plenty gleeful of that."

"But Rhaegar isn't his father," Alys states.

"Perhaps not," Jaime says, contemplating a moment before he adds, "But he still did things that hurt you and your family. He was still in some ways responsible for the deaths, and if I recall didn't show the same guilt you are for it. Even though you have even less of a hand in his death than he did in your families."

"How do you do that?" Alys asks, looking over at him.

"Do what?" He inquires.

"Make things better," she says.

He smirks, and remarks, "natural talent, my mere presence makes everything better."

Alys rolls her eyes but she can't disagree, at least when it comes to her own comfort around him. "I mean, whenever I'm teetering on the edge of true despair you always manage to make it all make sense. To pull me back."

He shrugs, "I just state the facts."

"Somehow that seems like something one wouldn't expect from you," she says.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I was always told all southerners, Lannisters especially, were liars." She jokes and he laughs now.

"Well you're right about that," he smiles, "All a great game of lies and deception down here in the south. I'm sure it makes the North seem quite simple."

"Greatly so," She nods, "I miss that simplicity. The most lying I had to worry about in Winterfell was lying about in the snow."

Jaime laughs again before sighing, "all right, your rising guilt over a death you had no hand in over… ask away with your questions. I'll tell you all I know of the battle."

"My brother?" it was the foremost issue in her mind.

"Alive," Jaime tells her and she smiles and releases a relieved breath. "And uninjured by all accounts. It seems of the rebel army the northerners fared the best in the battle." He studies her and adds, "already there are reports that at least your brothers forces have started this way."

"This way…" She repeats staring at the fire rather than at Jaime.

"Yes," Jaime confirms, his gaze still pressing upon her. "It seems your only weeks away from rescue should things go well." His voice is strained, likely at the thought of what will occur in those coming weeks. In the battle that will surely come, which strikes her odd. She'd think he'd be full of excitement at the thought of finally being able to fight in this war. A few weeks back when Rhaegar left for the Trident he had been desperate for it.

She glances at him now, and wonders faintly if something has changed.

* * *

The queen is leaving for Dragonstone. Alys learns this when she joins the Tyrells for lunch.

They're leaving too actually, but not to go with their queen. Mina needs to return in order to begin planning her wedding to Paxtor Redwyne with her mother, and Alerie bemoans that she misses her children. She's visiting her husband first as well, to wish him well as he sieges Storms End.

They're being cautious, that's what Alys deduces. Possible even scared. Though they hide it as well as they hide everything else. Regardless it's clear enough to Alys as they talk with her about how they hope she'll come visit Highgarden when the war is finished that they are nervous.

Rhaegars death has made all of Kings Landing on edge it seems.

Because the Queen is leaving for Dragonstone with little Prince Viserys in tow.

And apparently, according to Alerie, with another little one on the way.

The king is being cautious, or afraid, or both. Regardless he's sending them away because by now a few things are quite clear.

One that the war is coming for Kings Landing. A thing none of the court had anticipated it seems, as they had from the beginning assumed the rebellion would be ended swiftly and far away. But now that isn't what the court anticipates. Now the court is preparing for siege it seems.

The other thing that seems to have become clear is that the Targaryens are on a very precarious edge now.

Because they can, clearly, be killed.

Because Rhaegar has been killed.

Alys is actually happy that the queen and her son are being moved. She might not be fond of the queen, but she doesn't wish for a child, and an unborn one if Alerie is to be believed, to be harmed in the chaos that comes with an attack on Kings Landing.

As such Alys is alarmed when she learns later in the day that Elia and her children are not also returning to Dragonstone.

Elia seems equally alarmed at it. Worried over what will happen to her children.

"He wants to keep Dorne from rushing to the rebels side," Elia states, rocking Aegon lightly against her as he sleeps, his head pillowed on her shoulder. Alys glances towards Rhaenys where she plays with Balerion. "With Lewyn dead, and plenty of the Dornish soldiers who'd followed as well…" Elia's eyes were sad with the grief, and Alys felt it lightly too. Both for Elia's own pain and for Lewyn, who Alys had been fond of.

"He's worried."

"That's all anyone is around here now." Elia sighs, running a gentle hand over Aegons back. "I'm worried." She says.

"From what I've heard it's my brother heading this way." Alys offers, "he won't hurt you or the children. That's not the kind of man he is."

"And Robert?" Elia asks, her dark eyes meeting Alys's grey. "I've heard he's declared himself king. He won't want threats to his rule around." Her voice is strained, worried, and Alys glances away a second.

"I… I only know Robert sparingly," Alys admits looking back to Elia again, "but… but he's counseled by Ned and by Jon Arryn. My brother is honorable, and Jon Arryn has always seemed to be as well."

"Hopefully," Elia sighs, sad and worried and in a way that makes Alys's heart ache so she reaches over and grasps Elia's free hand and squeezes.

"Even if Jon isn't as honorable," Alys offers, mostly nothing because she has very little to offer, "he won't want to anger Dorne. Harming you or your children would be stupid. And from the times I've met Jon Arryn he's certainly not stupid."

Elia smiles, though it's barely there. "Thank you, Alys, for trying to comfort me."

"It's the least I can do." She says, "and if there is more I can do, I will."

Elia nods and Alys squeezes her hand again before looking to where Rhaenys plays again, the little girl chasing the black cat about the balcony as though the entire kingdom wasn't holding its breath for what came next.

_**Jaime**_

The king retires early the day he sent Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys sailing towards Dragonstone. The man, upon learning of Rhaegars death, has only gone madder if Jaime was asked. He eyed everyone with suspicion and when news of Tywins forces moving their way he eyes Jaime especially like he has the answer to whether his father will declare for or against the royals upon arrival at the city gates.

The thing is Jaime doesn't bloody well know. If he's honest it could up end either way.

Though if he were in his fathers position he would back the rebels.

On a tactical front it makes more sense, they just got a win that many are believing to have been the deciding win. Rhaegar was dead, Aerys is mad, and any other Targaryen options for king are too young to be of much help. To join the royalists over the rebels would be a dangerous gamble seeing as all signs point to the end of the current royal regime.

On a more personal front, for Jaime at least, he can only think of the relief upon Alys's face when he told her that her brother was unscathed from the battle. As well as the smallest light of hope at the knowledge that Ned Stark was heading her way.

It's rather confusing for him. And worrying.

Because the king is only getting more unstable since the Trident.

He whispers with Rossart constantly, and Jaime has seen the Pyromancers flitting about the keep and out into the city on the daily.

Planting wildfire. He heard the plan himself, sort of. Caches of wildfire in strategic spots so that only one need go off to send the whole damn city ablaze.

Jaime, however proud and fearless he is, is damn terrified of it coming to that.

Not that he can do anything about it.

He's a Kingsguard, his duty is to the _king_ and the _king_ wants the bloody city to go to flames rather than let the rebels take it over and let Robert Baratheon sit his ass upon his throne.

Jaime's still terrified, and worried and he's particularly worried over Alys. Because how cruel would that be, for her to get so close to freedom and family only to go up in an almighty explosion of green flame.

So, when the king retires early and a retinue of gold cloaks arrive to take over for the evening, Jaime finds his way to where Alys sits out on a balcony in the gardens. The Stark girl enjoying the light of the setting sun as she gazes out over the Blackwater.

"Fancy a swim?" He inquires, leaning along the balcony beside her, the entire vision of calm because he doesn't want her seeing through to his worry like she so often does. An ability he doesn't quite understand how she has.

"A swim?" She asks, a bit of laughter in her eyes as she studies him.

He nods, he'd already changed into a lighter shirt and pants. "Come on." He motions her alongside him, and he leads her through the keep to a wall near the Great Hall where he pushes it lightly. "Pay attention now, this is a quicker path to a beach outside the keep." He leads her through, "the little Rhaenys might enjoy it sometime, I know you and the Princess Elia go swimming with her on occasion."

"Dipping our feet in more like," Alys states, and he can feel her eyes studying him even in the darkness of the paths. He doesn't struggle much with it, and explains the route as he goes through the turns and declines.

And soon enough there is a light at the end of the stone paths.

They emerge out onto a rocky patch of land still a bit higher than the beach, but he leads her carefully down a slightly more worn out path until they reach sand. "Quite hidden," she remarks, glancing about the area.

It was rather hidden, a small alcove of a beach where Jaime knows a few better smugglers occasionally dock. Gold cloaks try to go through regularly to check for such folk, but it's still a good spot because of its privacy and difficulty in reaching.

"Well, I imagine us being seen enjoying some sun and water would be quite the fuel for rumors," he informs as an excuse with a wave of the hand, "saving you some more questions of virginity upon your brothers arrival." She eyes him, grey eyes that see far too deep in him he thinks, but seems to let it drop with a shake of her head before she walks closer to the water.

She slips her shoes off and lifts her skirts enough so she can keep them relatively dry as she steps into the water. She stands there a few moments, a gentle smile to her face as the slow waves lap around her ankles. Eventually she glances back his way and raises a brow, "well? You were the one who recommended this, are you going to join me?"

He smirks, "fine, fine." He waves his hand before slipping his own boots off, rolling his pants up to his knees he walks into the water himself, the cool water rushing in around his legs as he does. He sees Alys fussing with her skirts until she's tied the loose fabric enough so it won't fall into the water, though some of the edges are already wet from the waves.

She peers his way as well, as he joins her, and after a few moments of the pair of them simply standing amongst the lapping waves she lifts the foot closest to him and kicks. It sends a spray of water up his side and he gasps and glares.

"Very rude, Lady Alys," he tsks his tongue, turning to face her hands on hips and giving a glare in his best impression of a disapproving septa from his childhood.

"Perhaps," She shrugs, and then kicks the water again, sending more up his front. She laughs after, a musical sound that echoes just lightly around the cove.

"I'm much bigger than you remember, you're picking the wrong sort of fight." She smiles, though she attempts slightly to straighten her face as she steadily starts to stealth back away from him. "Ah, ah, ah." He shakes his head and leans enough down to put his hand through the water, "don't back away, you'll only make it all worse."

She turns then, moving awkwardly and slowly through the water back towards the beach just as he whips his hand through the clear waters, sending a much large spray up her away. It hits her along the back, and she scrunches her shoulders from the feeling before laughing and turning in the water to send her own spray back his way.

Jaime grins, enjoying the distraction of simple play much more than he thought. He hadn't planned much in regards to what they would do down here. He just wanted to show her the way to it. But he certainly was having fun. Which, considering his days and what was to come, was a very welcome thing.

They race about the shallow waters, splashing each other and getting well soaked in the process. Jaimes hair is dripping and likely looking rather brassy from it while Alys's dress is getting heavier as the skirts get more water thrown into them.

Eventually, after several minutes of back and forth she's bound a bit further and slips. Jaime's close enough to her that he reaches out and grabs her, his arm wrapping about her waist. It pulls him down as well, but he'd pulled her so it was his back landing in the water with her on top of him.

The sun had set further, painting the sky in a pink and orange hue while the final rays of sun shined down onto the waters. It all leant well to Alys, the sun at a point where it framed her head like a golden crown as she pushed herself up slightly from where she'd landed upon him. One of her hands was bracing on his chest as she did and some instinct in him that he couldn't pinpoint grabbed it with his own. Only a second, before he blinked and forced himself up, forced himself to focus on the unpleasantness of the situation rather than the pleasant parts.

The water soaking his back, the sand finding its way into his clothes. The slowly dropping temperature as the sun dipped away.

Not the still present smile on Alys's face from the remnants of their laughter. Not the light smell of her hair as it fell down by his face. Not the warmth that came from the points where her body was touching his.

He pulled them up, swallowing hard. "Are you okay?" Alys asks, eyes as gentle as always that makes him nod.

"Landed on a shell I think, or a rock." He shrugs, and trudges through the water until he's made it to the beach.

"Are we heading back?" She asks, and he doesn't think he's imaging the light disappointment to her voice. Though it's likely because at least out here it's slightly freer, no walls or guards or mad kings in this little beach.

"It's getting late," he remarks.

"Can we sit for a second," she asks. "Just till the suns set all the way?"

He glances at the horizon, estimating another ten or so minutes before its entirely gone. When he looks to Alys he can't help but nod, and follow suit when she plops upon the sand her knees pulled to her chest and arms resting upon it as she watched the sun dip lower.

Jaime joins her, after another second of shaking his thoughts free. Sitting beside her close enough that their arms are flush against each other. Still warm, and pleasant the way it had been in the water and at night when she always curled against his arm in sleep.

"Thank you," She says after a few moments of just the sound of lapping waves. "This was nice."

"Yes," he says, "well… I had an unpleasant day."

She glances at him, and again her damned grey eyes must be seeing far too deep in a way that makes Jaime want to shift upon the sand. He doesn't, just continues staring in the direction of the sunset, even as she leans further against him. Her head lightly coming to a rest against his shoulder and bringing more warmth than the last rays of sun could manage.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and for your comments! I really appreciate them every time i get one! The sack of Kings Landing is coming and I'm very excited to get that all written out and for what comes after. ****You can always find me on tumblr at a-song-of-quill-and-feather. **


	17. The Sack of King's Landing

**_Jaime_**

The army is spotted outside the gates by the early evening.

Red banners with golden lions fluttering outside the walls of Kings Landing. A sight Jaime would have found much comfort in if he was certain of what his father was doing. Supposedly, according to the word given at the gate to one of the soldiers, he was there to protect the city from the Northerners not far behind him.

The king sat upon his throne with Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys both stood before him. Jaime glances over them, his own nerves frayed as much as most of the city. He didn't much trust either man. Pycelle was a creepy old man whom Jaime doubted was as wise as Maesters were supposed to be. And Jaime had learnt early in his life from his father that men who dealt in secrets should only be trusted so far.

So he personally didn't know who to trust when it came to them disagreeing on whether to let his father within the city.

Aerys seemed deep in thought as he listened. Varys stepped further forward, "Lord Tywin has twelve thousand men in his control outside our gates. To let that size of a force within our walls would be too great a risk at this time." He was looking only at the king who met his gaze. Jaime was unsure how sound of mind the king was today. He doesn't truly believe in the last two weeks since Rhaegars death that the man has been clear eyed and sound. So he has little hope that he is now.

Perhaps the only thing he can hope for is that whichever way he decides doesn't result in the city going up in flame.

That is truly all Jaime can ever hope for with the king.

"Lord Tywin is an old friend of our king," Pycelle counters, his pale eyes glancing sideways to the Spider. "And a loyal lord to the realm, as was told to the men at the gate. He is here to protect his liege."

"He is a calculating man," Varys states, "and one not afraid of lying for his advantage." Jaime's jaw clenched just slightly, though he knew that Varys wasn't being dishonest about that. His father would do, and say, what was needed to get what he wants when it came to political gain. "If we open the gates and he is lying about his loyalties the city will fall."

"His own son serves the king," Pycelle motions to Jaime now and Jaime hates the reminder, as the king glances sideways to the kingsguard and his eyes narrow in thought. "As Lord Varys says, Tywin Lannister is a calculating man, and it would be against his interests to risk his own son's life."

Jaime stays still, as though it isn't him being talked on. But the king is still eyeing him, weighing the chances of his father being held to loyalty by him.

If Jaime were asked he wouldn't be sure. While he does doubt that his father would intentionally set out on a path that would lead to Jaime's certain death, he's not as certain that that guarantees he wouldn't join the rebels or sack the city. Especially seeing how the war seems to point more fully towards their success than the crowns.

There is more for Tywin Lannister to gain from supporting the rebels than there is for him to lose opposing the crown.

But Jaime isn't asked. And the kings beady eyes leave him and turn back to the two advisors from his small council. "Send word to open the gates."

Jaime sees Varys's eyes shut a second, worry clear upon his face before he nods and bows along with Pycelle who seems almost overly pleased with the kings decision. The pair leave and soon the room is empty save the king on his throne of swords and the lone Kingsguard of the city.

And within the hour word reaches the room that the city is under siege by Lannister soldiers.

_**Alys**_

The smell of smoke is the first indication she gets that something is happening. Knelt before the large oak tree for her daily prayer following dinner she pauses in her thoughts as smoke drifts on the wind in the evening.

The city, for the weeks following Rhaegars death, seems to have been waiting with baited breath for the siege they all knew was coming. Some left, like the Tyrell ladies, or were sent away, like the Queen and Prince Viserys, but plenty of court was still stuck here in the city.

And it seems, as Alys starts walking back to the keep, that the time has come.

Guards and soldiers are moving through the paths of the Red Keep. Preparing to defend it from the enemies that Alys overhears are already within the city walls.

For a few fleeting moments as she walks she believes perhaps it is her brother and that she'll be reunited with him soon, if she's not burnt by the king before he makes it to the keep that is.

But then she hears passing guards talk of Tywin Lannister and his men's assault in the city.

She doesn't know whether to be comforted still by the knowledge that it's Lannister men and not her brothers.

She does know that she's worried more for Jaime now. Because if it's his father assaulting the city then he'll be expected to fight his own family.

Passing over a walkway she glances in the direction of the city proper. The sun is on the cusp of setting, lighting the city in a low orange glow. But it is not the only source of orange glowing light. Alys pauses in her steps and looks more fully at the city, the source of the smell of smoke evident in the rising flames already started closest to the various gates of the city. She stays still a few moments, listening as she can just barely make out the very distant sound of fighting and screams being carried by the wind as well.

She closes her eyes and prays, gently and quickly that this ends quick for all those below.

Opening her eyes she turns away from the sight of a city being sacked and heads towards Maegor's Holdfast. She knows Elia will be within with Rhaenys and Aegon, and Alys wishes to spend this time with no one else save perhaps Jaime.

Jaime, who she spots looking towards the city with a gold cloak nodding his head at whatever Jaime is saying before leaving in the direction of the throne room. Jaime's jaw is tight as he looks down at the city, the fires that have started and the sounds of fighting in the streets still just barely making it to the keep.

"Jaime?" Alys comes up to him.

He glances her way and she swears she spots a flash of fear in his green eyes. "Alys," he glances around a moment before moving nearer to her. Closer she knows for certain, there's fear in his face mingling with the stress. Fear that bleeds in his voice as he says to her, "do you remember the way to the beach?"

"Yes?" she asks, "but… wouldn't it be smarter for me to stay? Away from Aerys but…"

"No," he shakes his head, "go. It'd be much smarter for you to go quickly."

"But… your father is going against the king. He'll be for the rebels. If he makes it…"

"No," Jaime shakes his head more before reaching and grabbing her, his hands tight on her shoulders as he looks at her, a pleading sort of look to his eyes. "Alys, you should leave. Get out of the city, quickly as you can." His voice is raw, sharp and heavy as his green eyes search her grey for sign of her understanding. Her own brow furrows, he sounds so desperate for it, his grip tight on her.

"Why—"

"No one's paying enough mind your direction now to notice you slip away. It's the perfect time… go through the passages I showed you. Go the the cove, there's usually a fishing boat near there, smugglers use it often enough." He keeps her gaze, talking quick but sure enough so she keeps up. "Take it and row, get as far from the city as you can." He smirks then, a familiar sight she usually welcomes but it is marred by the worry so clearly beneath it, "row north, your brothers army is that direction."

"Jaime…" she starts but he shakes his head and releases her.

"Go on," he nods the direction of where she'd find the entrance to the passage. "Be quick about it now." She hesitates, and moves around him still watching him as he looks down into the yard below. His eyes seem to catch on something, and his hand goes to the hilt of his sword as he moves towards a stairwell leading down to it.

She watches him descend before turning and starting towards the passage. She glances around her as she goes. In her scanning of the keep her eyes pass over Maegor's Holdfast, she can just see with the bend of the walls and path out to the outer wall of the keep. She almost doesn't note it, she almost keeps moving.

But there is the light of torches at the base of the wall. It catches her attention enough that she stops in her walking, and moves closer to study the sight.

There are figures, at least two, stood at the base of the walls and as she watches she can see one beginning to climb.

She stands, several moments, trying to reason why one of Tywin's would climb the walls of the keep when they've already entered the city. She doesn't think the keep will stand long before the forces can get in, so it would be meaningless to send men stealthily in this way to get the doors open.

But men, two at least, are beginning to climb the walls.

Perhaps to kill the king, she ponders. But the king is in the throne room, not Maegor's Holdfast.

But Elia is in Maegor's Holdfast, with her children. And Alys feels a chill at that thought, the reasoning that screams behind these connections.

She wants to say there's no reason for Tywin to send men after Elia and her children.

But she knows that's not true. Rhaenys and Aegon are Targaryens. Aegon is the heir after Aerys.

And Robert Baratheon has been declared king by the rebels.

Alys moves before she's even thought on it. Not in the direction of the passage but the opposite way, lifting her skirts so she can move quickly, near running her way in the direction of Elia and her children. She glances once, before she enters the Holdfast, in the direction Jaime had begged her to go.

He'd been so worried for her.

But this is more important than her own safety. Thus she looks forward as she enters and doesn't look back again.

_**Jaime**_

It hadn't taken long to know that they stood no chance against his father's men now that they had entered the city. Whatever defense he could attempt with the castle would only prolong the inevitable. Jaime had run around for near half an hour getting men set up to defend the castle but just a few glances at the cities already burning skyline told him it was lost.

He'd sent a soldier to ask the king for leave to make terms with his father.

And the messenger had returned with the kings demand to bring him the head of his own father.

The king expected Jaime to bring him the head of his father to show he's no traitor.

Jaime had been prepared to go and try and convince the king himself of the importance of making terms rather than sticking with a defense. They didn't have a chance, and if they made terms than perhaps Elia and her children would be safe, perhaps even the king would be allowed to live. Perhaps this wouldn't have to be a bloodbath.

But then the soldier had mentioned Rossart's presence at the kings side. And Jaime knew immediately what that meant for the city.

He'd seen the damned maps, with sickly green vials representing the sickly green jars that were placed about the city in just the right spots that if just one was ignited the whole city would go up in sickly green flames.

He'd seen the map and knew every single person in the city would likely end up dead if it was put in motion.

And Aerys would put in motion. He would kill every man, woman, and child within this city if it meant keeping the hands of the Rebels off of it all. He'd kill himself and likely expect to rise like a damned dragon from the ashes.

He is going to destroy the city. He is going to kill everyone.

Somehow it's not even surprise that courses through Jaime. It's recognition. This had been coming, perhaps it had been coming from the first person burnt unjustly within the throne room by a king known to be mad. Perhaps it had been coming since Aerys was born.

Was there ever any other way this man's reign would end?

Had Aerys's life _ever_ been destined for any other way of demise besides one built of flame and spite?

No. It's not surprise, as he sends the messenger to his duties. It's recognition, of what has been always coming.

And it's recognition that he can no longer do it.

He can no longer stand by as he has for countless burnings and rape.

He knows he has to try, to stop the city from becoming ash and flame.

It's recognition that this is the tipping point of all his vows, vows to his family to his king to his knighthood and to the people. It's recognition moving round and round in his mind as he stands lost in his thoughts before he hears Alys say his name and he feels fear course through him alongside the recognition at the idea of her reduced to ash and rubble like the rest of the city. Fear that makes him implore so desperately that she leave, that she get as far as she can so maybe, just maybe, if he fails she can not be resigned to the fate he had once told her was inevitable for her. So maybe, she won't be as doomed as he once had said.

Then he spotted Rossart, Jaime had almost missed the man while he was talking with Alys. He'd almost missed the man scurrying across the yard in common soldier clothes.

The damned pyromancer turned kings hand.

Jaime can't say that he had any reservations about bringing his sword down upon the bastard. Rossart had seen him coming, and had attempted to fight him off, bringing a sword up in defense. But Rossart was not a warrior, and certainly not one that had any chance against Jaime. It didn't even take long, almost laughable how easy and quick it was cutting the man down and leaving him dead in a puddle of blood by the castle gate.

But Rossart wasn't the only threat. There were several pyromancers throughout the city. And there were two others that knew of the plot Rossart and Aerys had cooked up. But they weren't in the keep, so he didn't have to worry over them now. They'd probably been awaiting Rossarts word.

He had to deal with Aerys, before he sent more word to the other two Pyromancers to burn the city.

He moved, quick through the yard in the direction of the Great Hall. He could hear the sound of soldiers outside the gate. A battering ram was being prepared if he cared to guess. Above on the ramparts his own men were moving about. He didn't care to tell them to stand down, he couldn't stop and order them all about. He couldn't stop at all.

He enters the hall to find Aerys pacing before his throne, his head bowed as he muttered under his breath and picked at the scabs upon his hands. Jaime could see blood dripping from the cuts, and knew there would be a trail of little droplets of red along the path the madman was pacing.

It wasn't the only red trail in the room. Jaime hadn't bothered to sheathe his sword, and he certainly hadn't bothered to clean it of Rossarts blood, which dripped and trailed all the way as Jaime made his way down rows of long dead dragons hanging upon the walls towards the king.

Aerys noticed him as Jaime passed by the last and biggest of the heads. His beady eyes seemed to lock onto the blood dripping down his sword immediately. "Whose blood is that?" he demanded, "Is it Tywins? Is it?." Jaime kept moving, taking the first step up to the dias as Aerys demanded more, "I want him dead, the traitor. I want his head, you'll bring me his head, or you'll burn with all the rest. All the traitors." Jaime took the next step up the dias but the king still ranted, his hands motioning all about. Blood dripping from scabs and from sword. "Rossart says they are inside the walls! He's gone to make them a warm welcome." Jaime takes the last step up onto the dias and Aerys eyes him again, beady purple eyes looking him over, up and down so quick until he looks to the blood on his sword once more, "whose blood? Whose?"

"Rossart's," Jaime finally answers.

Those mad purple eyes grew wide, and the kings mouth dropped with shock as he stares at the blood and then to Jaime. Then he turned and ran, ran towards the throne as though a chair of swords that had always cut him would save him.

Jaime only had to move forward and reach, grabbing the king by his cloak and dragging him back. He lifted his sword as he did, running it through the back of Aerys. The man croaked, a twisted choking sound as the sword went through. Jaime released him and pulled the sword back, blood spraying out as the sword dragged away, mingling with the trails already upon the dais.

The king was knelt, before the throne, bleeding and choking and in it his eyes were hazed and he croaked out "burn them." Jaime stepped forward again, raising his sword again. "Burn them all." He cried, as though he still had some chance at life before him. Perhaps he believed he did. Perhaps he thought the city would still burn and he'd still rise from its ashes.

But that wouldn't happen. Jaime would make sure of it.

Jaime reached down, grabbing the collar of the kings cloak and lifting the man enough so he could drag the sword he'd swore to use only to protect this man across his throat. With a single slash across the mad kings throat he fell silent with a final gurgling choke and Jaime released him to fall slumped and lying in his own blood.

_So easy._ Jaime thought,_ a king should die harder than this._

He's staring at the king when he realizes there are footsteps coming up the great hall. He turns to look and sees a group of knights making their way up towards him. Knights, he recognizes, of the Westerlands.

He recognizes Roland Crakehall amongst the front of the men, he'd squired for the mans father for four years, he notes rather blankly. The man, and the others, are taking in the scene.

_Pity_, Jaime thinks. If he'd had more time perhaps he could have ran before discovery.

They looked at the king, dead in his own blood, and at Jaime in his kingsguard armor and cloak with blood upon it's white fabric to match the blood on his sword. He remembers sparring with Roland at Crakehall, the man had been older but had always put a good fight and smiled even when he lost.

He wasn't smiling now, he was wide eyed with shock and perhaps something else. Blame, or fear. On all of them, shocked and apparently appalled by the dead king and Jaime with the mans blood on his sword.

_Were you not on your way to do the same?_ Jaime thinks.

It doesn't matter, he decides.

It's Roland who finally gathers his wits to speak, "the castle is ours, ser, and the city." Jaime wonders how true that really was. He could just barely make out the sound of fighting beyond the still open door to the Great Hall, likely the soldiers he hadn't bothered to command to stop. But, he supposed, it doesn't matter if fighting was still happening. The city was sacked, the king was dead, and the royalists had lost.

He turns and faces them more fully, resting the edge of his sword against the ground beside the kings body. "Tell them the Mad King is dead," he commands. "Spare all those who yield and hold them captive."

Crakehall nods, his, and the others, eyes still occasionally flicking down to the king in his blood. "Shall I proclaim a new king as well?" Crakehall asks, his eyes looking at the bloody sword and up it until they landed once again on Jaime.

The question was plain: who would they crown? _Who would Jaime crown?_ They were looking to him to decide, because it was him who'd slit the last ones throat. Would he crown his father, or go with the Rebels and crown Robert? Or perhaps he'd stick with the dragons, and put the baby Aegon or the little prince Viserys upon the throne.

Jaime thought on it, but his eyes caught the blood spreading over the stone.

It's in them as well, the mad king wasn't the first Targaryen to go mad, whose to say he'd be the last?

He looks back to the group, and realizes how immeasurably tired he is. He doesn't want to decide this, he doesn't care. He was tired.

_He wished faintly that he could go to Alys, he always slept so well beside her._

"Proclaim who you bloody well like," he tells Crakehall, who nodded quickly though his eyes still flicked to the bloody sword and body and cloak. Jaime turns then, moving up the dais until he reaches the throne, dragging his sword along the stone like it was all too heavy—it is— and trailing the blood along behind him.

He sits upon it then and leans back into it, feeling some edges of the thousand blades scrape against his armor as he made himself as comfortable as one could be in the damned chair. He keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword, his own eyes flicking to its blade and trailing along the blood that still covers it. He studies it and his jaw tightens as he glances back to the group of men who take one final look at the scene before turning and heading back out into the city.

Jaime shuts his eyes as they leave, a heavy breath escaping him as he feels fatigue fall like a heavy blanket upon him.

He doesn't rest though, he reopens his eyes and looks towards the door of the great hall. Waiting and watching for who would come and claim the seat.

_**Alys**_

Alys finds Elia in the nursery with Aegon tightly in her arms. She's rocking him as he fusses, and Elia herself looks on edge as Alys opens the door, her form jumping as she reaches towards a knife upon the table beside her and brandishes it at Alys. It shakes a second before she lowers it. "Alys?"

"Men are climbing the walls," Alys says, glancing towards the windows of the room and wondering if they were the ones above the climbing men. Elia looks as well, and her grip tightens upon Aegon and the knife both. "Come with me." Alys says, motioning, "they'll expect you here, but… but if you hide in my rooms."

Elia nods and stands before glancing about, "Rhaenys?" she calls, "she was here… she might've gone to mine or Rhaegars rooms."

"I'll find her," Alys says, motioning Elia out the door, she glances down both ways of the hall before looking at the walls. Alys had checked them as she went and she leads Elia quickly to the tapestry a small ways from the nursery, pushing the heavy fabric aside she presses against the stone like she'd seen Jaime do plenty. "Hide in here, I'll come with Rhaenys and then we'll make our way to my room." She ushers Elia in with Aegon, and starts to shut the stone.

"Alys—" Elia starts, but Alys shakes her head.

"I'll be right back," and then she closes Elia within, letting the tapestry fall back in place before she starts back towards the nursery.

She's about to push open the door when she hears the sound of shattering glass on the other side. She freezes, breathing hard as she listens, "where the hell are they?" a mans voice reaches her ears in muffled tones and Alys is spurred into motion.

Elias room connects to the nursery, so it's possible Rhaenys went there. But that also means the men are closer to it than Alys. Alys hesitates by the door of the room before she recalls something else, something Elia had mentioned once while they broke their fast.

Rhaenys had had a nightmare the night before, and when Elia woke she couldn't find Rhaenys anywhere in her room or the nursery. Lewyn had been the one to find her, hidden in her fathers room under his bed clutching a blanket around her.

Alys looks fleetingly at the door to Elias rooms and hopes she makes the right choice, because she fears if she doesn't it will be too late.

She moves further down the hall and stops at what she believes to be Rhaegars room, she's never been within it but she recalls being told its the one down at the end of the hall. She pushes the door open and glances around the room, it's dark and cold from disuse. Moving quick she moves to the bed and kneels. She can't see under the bed, the lighting too dark as the only light in the room came from the nearly set sun through the window. "Rhaenys?" she calls, quiet in case the men have left the nursery and were in the hall. "Rhaenys can you come out? I'll take you to your mother."

She waits a second, and starts to doubt her decision when she hears a quiet sniffle and then the sound of movement. Then Rhaenys pops out from under, "is papa here? Did he come back?"

Alys sighs, sorrow rushing through her for this girl not even yet four who just wanted her father. "No, no. I'm sorry." She says, "but your mother and brother are waiting for us. Will you come with me?" Rhaenys studies her a second before nodding and taking Alys's hand.

Alys starts them towards the door to the hall when she hears another door shut and footsteps start down the hall in this direction.

Her grip on Rhaenys tightens and she quickly glances around the room, scouring the space for somewhere to hide or another way out. Her gaze stops on the hearth, and a familiar looking pattern of stone beside it. "Come on," she whispers to Rhaenys, "be quiet okay." She releases Rhaenys's hand and starts to feel along the stone. She can hear the footsteps getting louder out in the hall, and panic bubbles up in her as she gets more and more frantic in feeling along the stone wall.

Then she finds it, the little push that allows her to move the secret door that was exactly like the one in her own room. She gets the stone moving, conscious of the sound as she opens it just enough for Rhaenys and her to get through. She ushers the little girl in first, who stares at the dark space with fear but thankfully doesn't protest.

Alys follows behind, and is pulling the stone back into place when she hears the door start to open.

"Alys?" Rhaenys's voice is barely audible, and soon a small groping hand grasps Alys's.

"Quiet, okay?" Alys whispers to remind her. Rhaenys doesn't reply, so she assumes the little girl has nodded and understands. Alys listens a second by the door while she lets her eyes adjust to the darkness, but the stone is too thick and she can't make out any sounds within.

She looks around, she needs to move quick still. She can see well enough, and is aware enough of where they are in the keep that she starts moving them down, one hand holding Rhaenys's and the other moving along the wall. They only walk a short bit before she finds a point in the wall that gives, pushing it open she peers through and sees it exits out into another bedroom. Slowly she exits, "stay close okay?" she tells Rhaenys who nods.

She moves towards the door out to the hall and pulls it open just enough to peer out.

They're down a short ways from Rhaegars door, and around the corner from where Elia and Aegon are hidden within another series of passages. She doesn't see anyone either, so she assumes the two men are still searching Rhaegars room. She glances about the hall, studying the walls until she spots another tapestry.

She moves them quick, aware that the men could leave Rhaegars room at any moment. She pushes away the tapestry and is relieved to find a similar door to what she'd put Elia through. She pushes the stone and opens it, once again ushering Rhaenys within before following. She lets the tapestry fall back over and shuts the door.

Taking Rhaenys's hand once more she starts in the direction that Elia should be. She rounds a corner and lets out a relieved breath at the sight of Elia rocking Aegon in her arms right where she'd been left.

Elia notices her as well despite the darkness, and when her eyes land on Rhaenys a choked sound comes out of relief. "Thank you." She says when Alys reaches her fully.

"We still have to get back to my room." She tries to picture where they are before she starts moving them.

She makes sure they're moving quick, and has to stop at exits to peer out and orient herself.

Every time she does she can make out the sound of fighting beyond the walls of the Holdfast, perhaps even within. She tries not to think of it all, certainly not to think of Jaime out there fighting and possibly dying.

_He's always bragged about how good with a sword he is,_ she reminds herself as she leads Elia and the children along,_ just have faith that he was telling the truth._

When she feels well far enough away in the Holdfast from the men who had tried to get to Elia and her children, Alys leads them out of the passages and out onto the walkways that will take them to the Maiden Vault. She would prefer to stick within them if she could, but the passages are too much of a maze to risk.

Instead she makes sure they're quick, moving along the walkway as quiet and fast as possible. She can see some fighting now, gold cloaks going against knights and soldiers down in one of the yards as they pass the library and Sept. She feels incredibly relieved when they enter the Maidens Vault, something she wouldn't have ever expected to feel about the place she'd been a prisoner in for over a year.

She elects to return to the passages once more, knowing the layout of the Maiden Vault enough to navigate their way to the door in her own room.

A room she welcomes the sight of entirely when she pushes through the door and ushers Elia within. Secluded and windowless as ever but pure relief at feeling slightly safer here than out in the halls or in Maegor's Holdfast.

She gets the secret door shut and leans against it once its done, her eyes falling shut as she tries to breathe steadily enough to calm her nerves that had been coursing through her from the second she saw the two men begin to climb the walls.

"Alys?" She opens her eyes and looks over to Elia, still holding Aegon tight in her arms while Rhaenys clutches her mother skirt. "What'll happen now?"

"I won't let anything happen to you three," Alys states moving towards Elia and taking one of her hands in her own, "I… I'll keep you safe, however I can." _Ned_, she thinks, when he arrives she'll get him to agree to keep Robert from killing them. Surely something can be arranged, surely Ned will agree that spilling children's blood would hold no purpose. Even if they are Targaryens. "I promise." She squeezes Elias hand tight, the woman returning it.

She's about to say more when the sound of movement in the hall outside her room is heard. Elia stiffens and tightens her grip on Aegon while Rhaenys looks towards the door with wide eyes before turning into her mothers skirts. "Hide," Alys tells Elia, moving them towards the privacy screen beside her wardrobe. Elia sits hidden behind it with Aegon tight in her arms and Rhaenys held against her tight.

Alys hears more movement, closer to her door and moves towards the center of the room while she glances around. The movement stops outsider her door and she moves quick to grab the poker by the hearth.

She turns, brandishing the poker like a weapon but feeling entirely inadequate holding it as the door to her room opens. Alys raises it higher as a man steps through.

And she freezes, brow furrowing as she recognizes the man, "Howland?"

* * *

_**Thank you for reading and for your comments/reviews! **_


	18. Reunion

_**Alys**_

A second passes with Alys stood entirely still. The poker still brandished out like a sword, but she did nothing but stare at him.

And then the metal hit the ground with a clatter as she races forward to throw her arms around him. Hugging him close as a sob sounded from her chest.

It's relief. Bubbling and spilling over her as she realizes that it was all ending. Howland was here, which meant Ned was here. Which meant she, when things settled, would be going home. She would be leaving the capital, and the mad king, and it all.

Howland laughs as he hugs her back. The sound music to her ears and bringing her back to late evenings at Harrenhal with him and Lyanna drinking and singing and laughing.

Better times, happier times.

His arms are tight around her and she tightens her own grasp back, breathing in the smell of northern leather and letting just a few more moments pass where she can live just in her relief.

She pulls back to look up at him, "Ned?" She probably sounds desperate. But she was, by the old and gods and new all she wanted was to see her brother.

"He sent me on ahead," Howland tells her, a grin playing at his lips. Clearly as relieved to see her as she is him. "He told me to find you while he dealt with the throne room for Robert."

Alys nods, her eyes stinging a bit as she smiles and thinks of how close she is to seeing her brother after so long. She's about to say something when a muffled cry comes out from behind the privacy screen.

Aegon cries lightly a bit more, and Alys freezes as Howland looks towards it. "Alys?"

"You can't say anything," Alys starts, reaching and grabbing him, imploring him. She glances as well seeing Elia peaking out now that her cover is broken. She's rocking a still sniffling Aegon while Rhaenys stands clutching at her mothers skirts and eyeing Howland skeptically from behind them. "To anyone, not right now." Howland is looking them over, clearly categorizing who they are before he looks back to Alys. "There were men, going after them. They were going to be killed."

"Ned wouldn't..."

"Tywin Lannisters men," Alys says, but she pauses. "But you can't tell Ned, I will. But, it's dangerous right now for them. We have to be careful. If they're found they…" her voice splinters with the worry. She glances again to the three.

"Okay," Howland nods, "I… I understand Alys."

Alys nods as well, letting out a breath. "It's okay, Elia." She looks back to her friend. "He's a friend. I trust him."

Elia eyes Howland, as she has since she came out from behind the screen. Her dark eyes taking him in and judging him and Alys's word. Finally, her eyes move to Alys and she nods. "Okay." She shifts Aegon in her grasp and nods slowly again.

"I want to go see Ned," Alys says, to Howland and Elia both. "I _need_ to see Ned." She did, she wanted it so badly. To see her older brother, to see family, after over a year of being without them, of being cut off entirely from them. After having her last family she saw be killed in front of her, and spending so much time in the grief for those she lost and the worry for those still left.

"It might not be safe to move through the keep right now," Howland advises. "And you said yourself, we need to keep these three hidden."

"That's why I was hoping you'd stay with them, keep them hidden here." She glances to Elia, "I'll be okay, I've made it this far." She smiles lightly but Howland seems hesitant. "Howland," she implores, "I need to see him."

Howland studies her a moment before closing his eyes and sighing, "I've never been able to talk you Stark girls out of anything." She smiles lightly at him, "go to the throne room, if he's not there than you come right back." He instructs her, "it's too dangerous to be searching the whole keep for him."

"Thank you," she squeezes his hands and then turns to Elia, "I'll be right back, I swear. I just…"

"I understand," Elia nods, voice gentle as she speaks. "Go. I trust you, and so I trust this man to keep me and my own family safe and hidden until you return."

"I do," Alys confirms. "And if it looks like others are coming, hide behind the wall."

Elia nods once more and Alys turns and heads out into the hall and starts making her way to the throne room. Moving quick and stomach fluttering at the idea that soon she'll have her brother in her arms.

_**Eddard**_

Kings Landing was already on fire when they arrived. Smoke drifting up into the horizon as they rode up to the gates. They hadn't even had to force their way within the walls, the gates were open for them upon arrival.

It answered the question of whether Tywin Lannister would arrive at the city first.

It also answered the question of whether he would support the Targaryens or the rebels.

As they rode quick through the streets towards the Red Keep they passed Lannister soldiers looting. They passed houses and businesses on fire. And they passed dead bodies. Ned could hear screams around him, crying and shouting. He focused ahead despite wanting to send men to stop the looting and the chaos. He focused because his job was to take control of the Red Keep. To deal with Aerys and the royalists within. Not to mention finding Alys within it.

When the Keep was secure he would turn his focus to the city.

Approaching the Red Keep he saw more Lannister men, and red flags with the golden lion were flying already upon the Keeps walls. The sight of it all only made Ned frown further, distaste burning in his core at the thought of the Lannister lord taking it all after only joining here at the end.

As he started up the steps with his men he wondered if the soldiers littered about would stop them. But no one did, they glanced at the banners and sigils and let them pass.

Which was the only relief so far that Ned had found from the Lannister's presence.

He made his way to the throne room. Passing knights of the Westerlands and the guards of the Red Keep who had surrendered to the Lannisters before Neds arrival. There were bodies as well, here and there. He rode past them all, glancing down only on occasion to be sure that none would leap out and attack him or his men.

Howland had broken off from him as soon as they entered the walls of Kings Landing, it would be easier for him to get quickly through the city and the keep if he travelled alone. Ned was glad to have Reed with him, and to have the man searching out his sister. He trusted him enough that he would keep her safe when he found her. Besides, Howland had been quite close with both of Ned's sisters during their time at Harrenhal and after.

His men pulled open the grand doors to the great hall, bearing to Eddard his first view of the place his father and brother died over a year past. His eyes scour the space, taking in the tall pillars supporting the structure, the skulls of the great dragons of the Targaryens past that stare down on the hall as Ned pushes his horse forward towards the throne. Watching everything that passes through, including him.

Finally his gaze turns ahead, and he studies the scene before him.

First was the throne, massive and sharp like it had always seemed in all the stories he'd heard before this. Swords melted together to create a terrifying and awe-inspiring seat of power for the Seven Kingdoms. And within it someone who was not the Mad King.

Ned's brow furrowed a moment, taking in the man with golden hair and Kingsguard armor who sat upon the throne, leisurely like he hadn't a care in the world. _Jaime Lannister_, Ned identifies. _But why was he sat there?_

Then Ned's gaze travels downward, a few steps from the throne a body lay sat in its own blood that pooled and poured down the steps of the dais. It didn't take much to know that was Aerys's body, his crown lays discarded beside his head in the blood.

As Ned gets closer to the throne he can see it, what happened, in the blood on the floor that matches the blood on the sword in Jaime Lannister's hand. His gilded armor of the Kingsguard held splatters across it, and the end of his white cloak was stained from where it must have dragged through the blood.

Ned felt appalled at the sight of it all. He felt no sorrow for the mad king's death, but the manner of it disgusted him. Killed by a man who had sworn to protect, who had made vows to the gods they followed.

Ned eyed Jaime further, studying the man who broke his vows and broke his honor. A man who'd sullied his cloak and all it meant. He met his gaze with his own. He didn't move as Ned drew closer, just stayed lounged upon the throne as though he meant to keep it.

Jaime Lannister had sworn vows before the gods to protect the king dead on the floor before him. Ned thinks of Barristan, grief ridden for the apparent failure in protecting Rhaegar on the field. He'd sworn the same vows as Jaime before him, worn the same armor and cloak, and yet Ned saw no grief to the Lannister's eyes.

He saw nothing of remorse or regret.

Just green eyes studying Ned right back as though trying to judge him worthy.

Ned's horse comes to a stop at the first step of the dais, and the Northern man stayed there. The pair of them staring silently as Jaime's eyes narrowed just the slightest, his head tilting while studying Ned further. The seconds dragged on and Ned wondered if he'd have to drag the man off from the throne.

Then Jaime Lannister laughed, and stood. He started down the steps, dragging his red edged sword with him as he reached Ned, looking up at the man upon the horse. "Have no fear, Stark," he smiled still, a cheeky look that made Ned wish he could draw his own sword. "I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert." Jaime glances back at the throne and adds, "it's not a very comfortable seat, I'm afraid." Then he motioned with a slight bow and continued down the last steps.

Ned watched him for a few more moments before pushing away his hateful thoughts towards the man and turning to get started on securing the keep.

_**Alys**_

The halls were fairly empty as she traveled from the Maidenvault to the throne room. It was only as she passed through the outside that she saw the evidence of the siege. Off in the city proper she could see fires and smoke, and within the Red Keeps walls itself she spotted cloaks of red moving about. She spotted bodies as well, and as she passed them she whispered quick prayers for them under her breath.

She started to see northern soldiers the closer to the throne room she got. Men in simple leathers and irons, with sigils she recognized of the north. Sigils of mermen, and bears, and giants, and wolves. So many wolves. It filled her heart with a warmth that had been so sparing for so long, and her feet quickened the closer she got.

She was moving through the open grand doors to the throne room when she spotted someone else entirely walking towards the exit. Jaime spotted her near the same time and his steps stopped a second before he quickened his pace to meet her. "What are you doing here?"

She blinks a second, "looking for Ned…"

"No, here, what are you doing here in the castle," Jaime stood before her and she could see several things about him as she studied him. There was blood on his armor, small splatters of red decorating the gilded scales of the Kingsguard attire. Glancing over him completely she could see more red staining the white of his cloak and at his side his sword edge was red with slowly drying blood. "I told you to leave, you should have left."

"I… I couldn't, something came up." Her brows furrow, he's close and his eyes are wide and green and alarmed. "But it's okay, Jaime," she tells him, "I'm safe and fine and my brother is here. It'll be okay."

He shakes his head, "if I hadn't… you could have…" She reaches forward, pressing a palm to his cheek to get him to calm his frantic look. His eyes shut as he lets out a sharp breath, his head leaning into her hand.

"Things are okay, Jaime," she assures. Though she still worries over him, "Jaime…" she starts. "Are you okay?"

His eyes open and she can see just so clearly how entirely exhausted he looks. Green eyes looking her over in raw openness before he tries to cover it with a smirk and a shrug, "I seem to be out of a job." His voice is joking but she hears it, the rawness.

"Jaime…" she speaks softly, running her thumb against his cheek and wondering how she can soften that sound.

She's still looking him over when her gaze travels behind him, and her heart stutters as she spots who she'd come originally for. Ned was stood at the base of the throne, off his horse with other northmen around him, but he was looking their way.

"Ned…" the name escaped her in a breath and Jaime sighed. Leaning into her touch a moment before pulling back and stepping aside.

"Go on," he nods, his green gaze glancing back at her brother with a frown before he looked back at her. "You've waited a year for it."

She tears her eyes from her brother whose started her way and looks instead to Jaime. "We'll speak later." She tells him, and he nods. She looks between Ned and him once more and adds, "thank you." Jaime's brow furrows but she's starting quick towards her brother before anything else is said.

She near ran towards Ned, and was not even half way there when the tears started down her face. When she reached him she threw herself entirely into his arms, wrapping her own over his shoulders and around him and burying her head into his neck.

He returned it all, his grip tight around her as he turned his head into her hair and she could hear him sob lightly against her. She settled into him and shut her eyes, staying in the moment and relishing it.

Relishing her brother, who she'd not seen since she and Lyanna left the Vale to go to Riverrun. Relishing the first family she's had in her arms since Brandon and her huddled in the black cells and her father arrived at Kings Landing at the behest of the king. Relishing in the familiarity that she's longed for since her father was burnt and her brother hanged in this very room.

All she's longed for since she was tossed into the windowless room in the Maidenvault with no clue to what her future held and no company but grief.

She relishes in it all, forgetting anything and everything else but the feel of her big brother holding her tight.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and for any comments/reviews I always appreciate it all and love hearing your thoughts on my work!**


	19. The Path Ahead

_**Alys**_

For two days she hides Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon within her rooms. Howland helping her by sneaking food and the like to them, and by having one of them always staying within to be sure they remain hidden. It helps that Ned has asked Howland to keep near Alys. She leaves the room herself only sparingly, as she has little need to wander the keep herself. Ned had been utterly indisposed with securing the keep and city, all while dealing with a back and forth with Tywin Lannister over it all while they awaited Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn's arrival.

And Jaime has been unseen by Alys as well since their run in in the throne room. She doesn't know if he's avoiding her or if Ned's having him kept under guard or if he's just busy. It could be any number of the three. She'd heard Ned talking about what happened with the king, and she'd heard the judgement in her brothers voice towards Jaime and what he did.

She wondered if that was why Jaime was avoiding her. If he thought she'd hold the same judgement for his killing of Aerys.

She doesn't.

When she'd heard what happened the only thing she'd felt was relief. Utter relief that the man was gone. She didn't even feel guilt for it, like she had with Rhaegars death. She couldn't bring any reason to feel sorry for the Mad Kings death, it was only relief.

And Jaime had done it. Perhaps she should feel some distaste towards his breaking of his Kingsguard vows. But she didn't, if anything she worried over how it all was affecting him. She thought of their talk of vows from the first night he stayed with her. How torn and bitter he'd been over the contradictions of them all. She understood, and felt nothing ill towards him for his actions.

Near this point she wondered if she ever felt anything ill towards Jaime.

Mostly she missed him.

Missed their nights, sleeping side by side in her bed.

Elia shared it now, along with Rhaenys. Howland had commandeered a laundry basket and a heap of blankets for Aegon.

Alys was anything but alone in her room at night.

But she still missed him.

There just wasn't much she could do about it at the moment.

She was rather preoccupied with trying to figure when was the right time to tell Ned of Elia and the children.

She didn't want to do it when Tywin was anywhere near, for fear that the two men he'd sent the night of the seige would find their way to her rooms while she's away and finish what they'd set out to do.

She also, as time passed, was less sure of telling Ned at all.

She trusted her brother, and knows he's a good man who would never harm a child.

But she also knows that both Rhaenys and Aegon pose a great threat to Robert Baratheon new kingship. He would want them gone, he would want them where there would be no risk to his rule. Which would only mean dead.

And Ned was Robert's best friend, he'd told her once he considered the man another brother. He supports Roberts claiming of the throne, and so would likely support his rule, regardless of his own opinions of what to do with Rhaenys and Aegon.

It scared her, not knowing what to do.

It scared her, every time someone walked past the door to her room or when Howland came through the door and she became afraid that it would be someone else and they'd see Elia and her children and that would be it. They would be sealed in a fate they shouldn't have.

Alys knows they're not safe so long as they're in Kings Landing.

And that is only cemented more so when Robert and the rest of the rebels arrive to the Keep.

Alys makes her way to the hands chambers where Ned and Tywin have been housing most of their discussions. She knows Robert has arrived, and Jon Arryn as well. She wishes mostly to get an idea of them, as she knows only so much.

She hopes it will help her decisions.

It is nice, walking through the keep. She stops here and there, speaking with the lords of the North who have since settled into the place while awaiting what's next. It makes the keep feel less suffocating, less foreign, seeing and speaking with northern men and women around the keep in place of the southern lords and ladies who for a while had looked away from her and stopped speaking as she passed.

It's strange how different it feels when the only change is the people she sees in the halls.

She walks towards the hands chambers and as she nears she sees new sigils on the men she passes. Sigils of the Vale and the Stormlands, and as she nears the chamber itself she can hear Robert Baratheon speaking loudly, and angrily if she was judging correctly.

She pauses, a few steps out of the way of the door, lingering and listening as Robert goes on. "How could three people, two of which likely not able to use a chamber pot by themselves let alone eat, get lost in the keep?"

"The night of the siege I had men search their chambers, as well as those surrounding them." Another voice answers, Alys guesses it to be Tywin Lannister. "There was no sign of the Princess Elia or her children."

"It's possible they fled the keep in the chaos of the siege," a voice Alys recognizes as Jon Arryn's adds, "or that our information was wrong or out of date, and Aerys sent them away after all."

"My son apparently rarely left the kings side since the Trident, and he has told me he hadn't heard anything of sending them off," Tywin states, "in fact it seemed the king was determined to do the opposite, wanting them close in case Dorne switched to our side." Alys can imagine Neds scowl at Tywins use of the word 'our', he had already expressed to her his dislike of the man and his swooping in at the last moment to the rebel side.

Alys listens carefully, leant against the stone and fussing with the ends of her sleeves so much that they'll likely tear. "I want them found," Robert declares, "I want any and all dragon spawn found and dealt with." Alys looks to the floor and frowns, "Rhaegars children, the queen and her spawn on Dragonstone, all of them."

"What are your plans when we find them?" Ned speaks now, and Alys is glad to hear the worry in it. "I understand the risks, but other than the queen, they're all children, the oldest being only seven years."

"Children grow," Tywin states, "and when they're grown whose to say what they'll feel towards the people who killed their fathers and took their throne. We know the safest route is to end the problem early."

"We have to consider Dorne," Jon Arryn points out, "at least in regards to Aegon and Rhaenys."

"I'll not have any Targaryen threat, now or in the future." Robert barks out, "Tywin is right, it doesn't matter if we bastardize the children, or send them to foster with loyal lords, or exile them across the narrow sea." His voice is loud, and trembling from the rage he holds in it. Alys grips her sleeves tight. "They'll grow, and they'll grow angry. They'll want revenge and they'll want the throne back." She listened, hoping for someone to say something against it, but Robert continued, "we said we wanted to end this madness, out by the Trident. These children you worry over Ned, they hold the same blood as the Mad King who killed your father and brother and held your sister hostage. The same blood as Rhaegar, who started this whole mess and stole Lyanna." Alys wanted to leave, but she stayed, stuck in place. "They've ruled with their madness long enough, and we said we'd end it. But we can not do that if we let even one dragon spawn slip through our fingers. So I need them found, and I need them dealt with."

Quiet. Alys breathed slowly and listened. Willing her brother to speak, or Jon Arryn. Someone to tell him _no_.

"It is not honorable, Robert." Was all Ned said.

No one spoke any more of it.

Alys pushed off the wall and left as they turned discussion to Storms End. She numbly walked through the halls, feeling rather lost in her thoughts and the looming truth that she didn't know what to do. She didn't know whether to tell Ned or not. She didn't know what he could do at this point. Robert was determined, and it seemed there was little to sway him.

In her wandering she found her way to the Godswood, stopping before the large oak tree that had disappointed her at first sight but eventually became a place of comfort. A pleasant sight that as she knelt before it brought her a clear mind to work through it all.

She sits, knelt before the tree as the hours pass. The blue sky turning grey and occasionally little droplets of rain hitting the leaves above her. A few hours of sitting by the tree pass when Ned finds her. She hears his steps and glances to him, a part of her hoping for Jaime instead though she shoves that thought away with guilt for wishing for someone other than her brother.

"Is there no weirwood?" He asks, offering a hand to help her stand.

"No," she shakes her head, "a few stumps I believe, that have been landscaped around to be pleasing to the eye. But no proper weirwood." She looks again at the large oak, "But you grow used to this one." She reaches a hand and rests it against the oak where on a weirwood a face of the old gods would look on.

"It should be safe enough soon to send you north again," Ned says, his eyes watching her. "Howland would escort you, and when you pass Riverrun you could join my lady wife on her journey north."

"How is Catelyn?" Alys asks, ignoring the thought of him sending her home now, when she still has much in the south pressing on her mind.

"She is good, I believe," Ned blushes and Alys can't help but smile. "Pregnant, actually, according to the last letter I received."

"Really? Ned, that's wonderful." She moves away from the tree and hugs him tight.

"Yes," Ned nods against her, though he sounds awfully nervous about it in a way that makes her nearly chuckle. "Well Robert says I must be quite lucky, having done it in the short time we had."

Alys stills at the mention of Robert and sighs, pulling back. "I… I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"I came looking for you earlier, by the hands chambers." She starts, "I overheard you all speaking of Elia and her children."

Ned glances away, what looks like shame to his face. "Robert is determined." Is all he says.

"Can you not talk him in another direction?" she asks, "I… I became close with Elia, and little Rhaenys. They do not deserve death."

"I've tried," Ned tells her, his voice tired and sad but Alys needs him to try harder. "I'll keep trying, but even Jon seems less reluctant about it. I can tell he doesn't like it, but… he seems resigned to it. And Tywin is persistent at Roberts ear. I am beginning to doubt I'll have any chance."

"They're only children."

"I know." He sounds resigned, disgusted by the thought, but resigned. "But it matters little now, we have people looking for them, but our main focus is Storms End and Dragonstone."

"And Lyanna?" Alys asks, wondering how high a priority finding their sister is for the rebel leaders.

"Of course Lyanna," Ned nods. "But we'll have little luck searching if we are still at war."

Alys nods, and studies him. Thinking of it all, of how much she missed him and home. Of Lyanna still missing. Of Elia and her children hidden away in her rooms and in danger every second they spend in the Red Keep surrounded by people who'd either see them dead or do little to stand in the way.

"Ned," she speaks gentle, reaching out and grabbing his hand, "I've missed you so much." She squeezes his hand. "I'm going to return to my room, it looks like it is going to storm." She glances to the sky, grey and heavy clouds over them, looming like a threat.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ned promises her as they start walking out of the Godswood, "I'm eating with Robert tonight, hopefully I'll be able to talk some sense into him."

"Hopefully." Alys smiles, though it matter little if he does or doesn't. She's made her choice, she knows her path.

* * *

Alys doesn't go straight to her room when she and Ned part ways. She makes her way first to the passage Jaime had shown her and down to the beach. The tide is higher, and the water choppier as the clouds are darker than that sunny day they'd spent together. She stops on the beach and glances about, remembering what he'd told her and walking just a small bit down until she sees it, around a outcropping of rocks, a small boat with two oars within it.

As she walks back she looks along the water, smiling gently as she remembers running about the shallow waters with her skirts tied high so they wouldn't get waterlogged. She remembers laughing and feeling so incredibly light that evening, as though she were someone else entirely who had no worries or pressures or grief.

Walking along the shore, she's now weighed down with more worries and pressures that she hadn't had at that time. It is hard to believe it had only been three days since that evening spent with Jaime. Three days ago she'd felt the lightest she'd felt in a year, and now she was weighed heavy with the path she was planning to take.

Sighing she stops a second at the spot they'd fallen at in the water. She remembers the warmth of Jaime's arm around her waist, the warmth of his eyes as they looked up at her so close she could see how green they really were. She stares at the spot, remembering how close he'd been, and how for a fraction of a second she'd wanted to lean down and kiss him.

Rain startles her from her thoughts and she shoves it all away, focusing on what is present and not what happened before and what might have happened if she'd been bolder.

The walk back she gets most of her focus back, but a small part of her still misses Jaime.

In her room she finds Howland sat near the door, listening apparently for those passing by. Elia sits behind the bed with Aegon asleep in her arms while Rhaenys is by the fire messing about with the chess set.

"Howland," Alys starts, knowing she needs him for this plan to work best. "I'm getting them out of here, tonight." She's focused on Howland, but knows Elia has looked her way and is watching her. "I can't tell Ned… at least not while Elia and the children are still in danger. And they'll be in danger so long as they are in Kings Landing."

Howland is looking up at her from where he is sat, "Alys…" he starts but Alys barrels on with explaining.

"The safest place for them, that I can think of, is Dorne. With Elia's family," she glances a second to Elia, who looks hopeful. "So, I'm going to try to get them there. I know a way out of the Keep that will go undetected."

"Alys…"

"And I would appreciate your help," she can't say she needs it, even if she does. "Keeping us safe on the journey, and helping navigate south."

"Alys this is dangerous," he starts, though his face gives little away at whether he's agreeing or not. "You already were treading the line of treason by hiding them here, smuggling them out is a surefire way to gain Roberts ire if he discovers it."

"I'll be fine," she dismiss it, even if she isn't certain. "Ned wouldn't let Robert hurt me. And I don't care, it's the right thing to do."

"And I imagine if I say no you'll do it anyway."

"I have to, Howland," she tells him, crossing her arms and staring him down. "Robert is determined to kill any Targaryen left, and I don't know if there is any convincing him otherwise, at least not at the moment when its all fresh. But perhaps, by the time Elia and them are safe his temper will have cooled and better discussion can be had." She isn't sure of that, from what she knows of Robert his temper is always hot. Not to mention the words of the Baratheons,_ ours is the fury_. "Either way, if I don't do this and something happens to them. It will be on me."

Howland eyes her, his dark green eyes narrowing to study her entirely in a way that makes her straighten her spine and meet his gaze with her own icy one. After a moment he stands, and nods, looking up at her still he says, "alright, tell me what we need."

Alys feels a release of pressure as she nods. Relief that she won't have to try this without him helping her.

* * *

It's twilight when they make their way through the keep. Howland leading them ahead, stopping occasionally, just stood with his eyes shut before motioning them along. Alys wonders at it, in passing as she's focused to fully on telling him the way through the Keep towards the passage. She wonders if he's simply listening for movement, or if its something more.

Regardless they make their way through, running across nothing but the cats that creep through the keep halls. At one point stopping near the kitchen so Howland could go within and grab food for them.

When they make it to the passage Alys is glad for the darkness and the sound of stone shutting behind them. She's glad for Aegon sleeping soundly, and for Rhaenys being so smart and quiet.

She leads the way through the passage, worried that otherwise a wrong turn would be taken and they'd end up somewhere else entirely.

As they move through the dark she thinks fleetingly of Ned, whom she'd left a letter for on her desk. She didn't mention Elia and the children, instead saying that she couldn't wait for the war to end to search out Lyanna. She wrote that she and Howland had headed south, following a lead from the fact that Rhaegar had come from Dorne when he returned to court. It was partially true, it hadn't escaped Alys that her sister was very likely in the part of country that she was now heading towards. She made private plans to do exactly as she'd written once Elia and the children was safe.

She wonders if he'll come after her. She hopes not, she hopes he trusts Howland enough to keep her safe that he'll leave it till after the disputes of war were done.

Either way it doesn't matter. She doubts he'll find the letter till sometime tomorrow, possibly not even until the afternoon. By then they'll hopefully have a good head start if he chooses to follow after.

As they head further through the passages she thinks of Jaime as well. She wishes, as they step towards the exit, that she'd been able to see him again before she left. She wonders when she'll see him again, and hopes it isn't too long a time.

Rain hitting the rock and water can be heard as they near the exit, and in the distance the sound of thunder booms across the area. Howland pauses behind her and she glances at him, worried that he'll advise against them leaving now.

"At least it will cover our leaving better," he finally says before they step out into the rain and he looks out along the water while following her lead towards the boat.

He keeps closer to Elia, helping her and Rhaenys both along the rocks as they make it to the boat and Alys looks back. "Hand me Rhaenys," she asks, and Howland lifts the near four-year-old up and over to Alys who helps her into the boat.

"I liked the boat we took from Dragonstone," Rhaenys says, her voice quiet and shaking as she eyed the boat nervously.

"It'll be a bit like that," Alys assures as Howland helps Elia and Aegon into the boat as well. "Just, a little smaller and rockier. We'll sit together, so I can make sure you're safe." Rhaenys nods as Howland motions for Alys to help him push the boat out into the water.

He helps her up once it's floating, and follows suit soon after. Alys sitting on one of the benches of the boat, Elia sat in the space between benches with the blankets they'd brought along wrapped around her and Aegon both. Aly grabs another of the blankets and helps Rhaenys settle on her lap with it wrapped around them while Howland uses one of the oars to push off the beach and further into the water.

Large droplets of rain fall down upon them while waves rock up against the boat, sending sprays of sea water occasionally onto them. They rock over waves and listen to the crash of it mixed with the boom of thunder.

Alys tightens her hold on Rhaenys the further into the Blackwater they get, anxious that if she doesn't the girl will move to near the edge and a wave will knock her into the churning waters.

Alys glances towards the Red Keep, watching it as Howland rows them forward carefully through the storm churned waves further and further. The structure slowly shrinks, and sea mist and fog eventually fully obstruct it from view.

Looking down to Elia, the pair of them meeting each others eyes, Alys wonders briefly if this will work. Shutting her eyes she prays, to all the gods old and new, that it will.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! This chapter flowed so quick I was shocked, hopefully this keeps up and I can get the next chapter out quick. **

**Thank you as always for any comments/reviews you leave me, they always make my day and leave me with the biggest smile! **


	20. Longing for Comfort

_**Jaime**_

Jaime was in a foul mood. He really hasn't been in the most favorable mood since the whole seige happened in the first place, but he was in an especially foul mood for the last day or so.

The only good thing that has happened the last few days was he finally finished the unenjoyable business of hunting down those two other pyromancers that had known Aerys's plan to level the city with wildfire.

That certainly had some affect upon his general mood. Dressed in plain clothes searching out Belis and Garigus throughout the slowly recovering city had proved easy enough. Belis had been hidden in some half-burnt shop near Fleabottom and upon recognizing Jaime was quick to try and offer as much gold has he could muster.

Truly, did the man think that bribery would work?

Garigus was just as easy to find, and thankfully far easier to deal with. The man had wept for mercy and Jaime had done the most he could. A quick death that he figures was painless enough for the man who only weeks ago had been excitably whispering to the king about the explosive properties of wildfire.

It had taken Jaime four days in total to deal with the two of them. Not because they were particularly hard to track down, that had only taken a day each. But more because the ever honorable— and judging— Ned Stark had seen fit to have Jaime placed under supervision.

Not technically arrested, he wasn't kept in the black cells by any means. He had a room that was as fine as any in the Keep and didn't have to surrender his possessions save his sword (which had added to his difficulty as he'd had to procure a new one when he went out in search of the pyromancers.)

No, Jaime wasn't a prisoner though he's certain Ned Stark wished him to be. But the northern lord— who was leagues less likable than his sister— was smart enough to not imprison the son of the man who had sacked the city for the rebellion (and also had more men in said city prior to the arrival of the remaining rebels.)

Jaime had managed to slip away after a day and a half of going mad from both boredom and anxiousness simultaneously from within his room with his only visitor being his father just the once, where he proceeded to commend him for his act of king slaying. Or as commending as Tywin Lannister ever is with his children, so to say he said it was an appropriate decision that will benefit house Lannister. He makes no reference to the fact that Jaime hadn't seen his father since he'd become a kingsguard years ago. He also eventually questions Jaime about Elia and the Targaryen children, which is when Jaime first learned about their disappearance from the keep.

Regardless, he'd managed to slip out of the castle and deal with the pyromancer rats without anyone the wiser.

When he'd returned the last evening he had collapsed in bed only to find himself as incapable of sleep as ever.

He'd hoped that it was simply the anxieties surrounding two pyromancers holding the plan to blow the city up still being alive that had kept him from getting plentiful sleep the last few days. But no, he'd tossed and turned and eventually when he did sleep all his dreams consisted of green flames and a dead king shouting "burn them all" while blood flowed from his neck.

To say he slept well was to be a liar.

Thankfully, not long after the arrival of the new king Robert and Jon Arryn, Jaime procured some freedom once more. His father apparently having made it shrewdly known that Jaime had done the men a service, vows be damned. And their worries were far more well placed on finding the remaining Targaryens and ending the siege that Mace Tyrell has been heading on Roberts home. Thus they could worry about what to do with a vow-breaking kingsguard after the more pressing issues of war have been dealt with.

Jaime was simply grateful to be free of the confining nature of a single room. He truly understands now how unbearable Alys's first few weeks in the keep must have been.

He intends, with his new roaming freedom of the keep, to search Alys out and inform her of his newfound sympathy for her early plight, and to distract himself from memories of Aerys's blood with a rousing game of chess where she'll most certainly win. He intends to perhaps inquire as to if she'd be opposed to him rejoining her bed for sleep again, and hopes for his own tiredness that she won't.

He intends for this.

But then he speaks with his father, who once again questions whether he knows anything of Elia Martells disappearance with her children. Which he once again proclaims no knowledge of anything to do with it, which he doesn't. Then his father frowns and makes his own displeasures known about their slipping away the night of the siege. Which makes Jaime's stomach feel foul at the thought of what his father had had planned though he refrains from thinking to far into it.

Then his father mentions Lord Stark's missing sister.

"Yes, well she has been missing since the start," Jaime had pointed out, tapping his foot against the ground as he really would rather not be spending his first afternoon with free reign of the keep stuck in with his father. "The late prince Rhaegar ran off with her, started this whole mess? Has Stark looked south? Apparently that's where Rhaegar was before returning to court."

His father looked up from his letters to give Jaime an unsurprising look of disappointment. "Not that one. The other Stark girl, the one who'd been here as a hostage," he clarifies, looking back down, not noticing that Jaime had stopped his restless tapping. "She disappeared from the keep a week ago with one of Lord Starks bannermen."

"Alys disappeared?" Jaime asks, dumbfounded. And curses himself when his father looks up quick to study him, his sharp eyes scouring over Jaime's features for what was underneath.

"Yes," he states, and Jaime swallows, straightens as he always has felt the need to do under his father's scrutinizing gaze. "She apparently left a note behind for Lord Stark, said she was going searching for her sister. Though it's of little importance to us." He says it pointedly, having clearly discovered the concern Jaime has developed for Alys over the year of knowing her.

So Jaime shrugs, "of course. I simply found it curious." He leans back once more onto the stone, "she was always a sheepish thing, surprising she found the courage to do something so dangerous." Tywin keeps his gaze on Jaime a second longer, clearly not buying his nonchalance, before finally looking back down to his letters.

A few moments of silence pass before his father speaks again, and only to dismiss him. "That was all I wished to discuss with you."

And so his intentions for the day are utterly wrecked and he does not spend the day sat with Alys in the gardens with a chess board between them while he tries to decide between actually trying hard to beat her or trying hard to lose in the most terrible way. Instead he wanders the keep for a while before turning to the training yard where he spends the better part of the day swinging his sword against a dummy until his arm felt like it would fall off his body if he hit it again.

And then he hit it again.

And again.

And again.

* * *

The next morning, with especially sore arms and after a restless night of blood, fire, and dead kings, Jaime wanders rather listlessly until he ends up in the godswood at the little bench Alys always sat upon when she wasn't keen on kneeling on the dirt and leafs at the base of the oak.

He peers at the big old thing and wonders if she's okay.

He thought about it a lot while he was hitting the training dummy and between fits of sleep. His father didn't have much detail, and so perhaps Jaime didn't know the whole situation.

He said she left with one of the northern bannermen, would that be enough to keep safe on the journey to Dorne? She'd be going through a lot of country, either Stormlands or the Reach or both to get to the passes that would lead to the country she believes Lyanna is in.

Lots of bad men take advantage of a country at war to prey on weak parties traveling the roads. A lone man and woman wandering would be an ample target, especially if Alys looks like a highborn lady. Which she usually does.

That's not even to consider the wildlife between Kings Landing and Dorne.

He frowns before shaking his head.

Enough worrying, she's a big girl. She can handle herself, probably.

Hopefully the bannerman she brought with her can handle it.

Jaime sighs and buries his face in his hands.

_She should have asked him_, he thinks.

For one he would know for certain that she would be just fine traveling if he was with her, he could handle any trouble along the road. Plus he wouldn't be here in Kings Landing sitting on his thumbs waiting for something to happen.

And he would have some distraction from the dreams. And her beside him to settle them.

He sighs again, and thinks back to when he saw her last. In the throne room, not long after her brother had stared him down with visceral judgment. She hadn't looked at him that way, she'd looked at him with concern, as she always did when he started to crumble. It was quite disconcerting, how easily she saw through him.

If she was here she'd know immediately that he was in a foul mood, and would probably know exactly the thing to say to settle it.

But she wasn't here, which makes his mood fouler.

She'd said they'd talk soon, when he saw her last.

How long would 'soon' be now?

_**Alys**_

Alys knelt in front of Elia, bringing the flagon of water to her and letting her take it with shaking hands.

"Should we wait longer?" Alys asks, eying her friend who shook her head.

"No, we've stayed still long enough," Elia hands the water back before shakily standing. She glances in the direction of Howland stood by the pair of horses, smiling as he encouraged Rhaenys to pet the one, while holding a smiling and babbling Aegon near the inquisitive snout of the other. "Travel has never agreed with me, especially travel of the rough kind."

Alys glances away, "I'm sorry." She feels guilt bubbling and churning her own stomach, "I should have thought of that before dragging us out here with little planning." She looks back to Elia, who still watches her children. "I panicked, and perhaps was too hasty."

Elia looks back to Alys, "no, it was the right choice to make." She reaches, shaky hands taking Alys's. "A hard one, to be sure. But I believe the right one." She looks again to the children, "I feel miles better, even as ill as I am, with them out of the city and us on our way to my home and family."

Alys nodded, though she still worried over whether it was the right choice. But perhaps Elia was right, it was hard, but the best option for the three of them. And it is not as though they could return now, the only thing to do was continue forward.

It had already been over a week since they'd departed from Kings Landing. They'd sailed along Blackwater Bay all night until Howland steered them into the river that ran through the Kings Wood just as the sun began to rise over them. They stopped only at night from them on, using the boat to sail through the Wendwater and Howland keeping an eye on the surroundings for men and animals alike that tended to lurk within the woods. During this time they talked a lot on what their plans were for travel. Having to decide between the Prince's Path route to Dorne or the Boneway.

They were still contemplating it even now, finally free of the Kings Wood and camped outside a small town in the Reach called Grassy Vale from which they'd bought their horses using some coin Howland had and a necklace Alys had been wearing. They'd lingered here all the day before, Elia having woken the morning near feverish.

Alys wishes she'd thought of that more clearly. Perhaps she should have waited a few days more, done more planning so the journey wouldn't tire her friend out too harshly. She can recall easily the days where Elia had felt ill and she'd taken it upon herself to entertain Rhaenys so her mother could rest.

She should have thought about it.

But there was nothing to be done. Alys and Elia walk towards Howland, who is helping Rhaenys feed the larger of the horses a bit of grass from the palm of her hand. "Flat palm there, good." He smiles as Rhaenys laughs.

"It tickles!" she laugh-screams while the horse takes the grass off of her palm. Rhaenys glances towards the two women as they near and says, "Mama it tickles."

"Yes, I imagine it would," Elia smiles, still looking more tired than Alys likes but clearly ready to push onward. "I can take Aegon now, thank you Howland."

Howland nods, handing over the toddler who coos and babbles "mama" as Elia takes him in arms.

"I'm thinking the Boneway will be our best route south." Howland tells her as the pair of them begin packing up the small camp they'd made. "We're less in the open and the only town we'll have to worry over is Blackhaven, the rest we'll come across are Dornish and as such pose less risk." Alys nods and glances to Elia who gives her support as well.

"You'll be able to navigate us through?" Elia inquires.

"Aye," Howland nods, "bought a map from a lad in town, and besides, I've got some tricks up my sleeve for navigating the wilds."

"Crannogman secrets?" Alys inquires with a smirk.

He returns the smirk but does not elaborate before motioning toward the horses. "I'll ride with the little princess, you girls ride together with the baby on the larger horse."

Alys nods, and soon enough the group of them are returned to the road and heading south towards Summerhall and the entrance to the Boneway path.

* * *

Alys was reminded in their travels that she wasn't a fan of traveling.

She much preferred staying in one place. Preferably someplace comfortable, and safe, that she considers home. Or at least someplace comfortable with people she enjoys and loves.

She doesn't so much mind going to new places, she simply dislikes the road between.

Lyanna loved the road, loved travel.

When they'd departed from Winterfell for the first time, heading south towards Riverrun with Brandon to meet his betrothed, she'd been ecstatic about it. It had been near impossible for Brandon to keep Lyanna from riding ahead the whole way south.

Alys remembers a morning somewhere south of the Neck but before they'd reached the crossroads when Lya had convinced her to go riding ahead. The pair of them had raced along the open road and Brandon had had to track them down when Lya decided they needed to take a break near the water of the Green Fork and eat some of the food she'd swiped before they'd ridden out.

The two girls had leant back in the sun and the green grass, with the sound of the river accompanying them as they ate and talked and laughed. Lyanna had stated then that she'd rather spend all her days wandering Westeros and the world than marry Robert. Alys, as she always did, tried to tell her it wouldn't be as bad as she believed. Lyanna, as she always did, shook her head at Alys's attempts.

It had been a good day.

When Brandon had joined them they'd raced once more, and when Alys, the weakest rider of the three, fell behind he'd come back for her so she wouldn't be alone the rest of the way to where Lyanna and him had stopped ahead.

Alys greatly misses them both.

She wonders if Lyanna had enjoyed her own journey to Dorne. Had she taken the Boneway, like Alys's group was? Or had she gone the Prince's Pass… how far into the desert country did she and Rhaegar even travel?

She had to force herself to focus on things other than Lyanna, or Brandon, or family in general. It all either made her worry or made her sad. She focused instead on the small group she traveled with.

Howland was a welcome familiarity, a northerner and a friend from before, the pair of them found easy conversation.

They talked, only a few times, on Lyanna. Howland had been just as close to her as he was with Alys, their time at Harrenhal having brought the three together. It was an easy friendship to form. They were only a year apart in age, and with Lyanna having defended the crannogman against those squires and the three of them working together to enter Lyanna in the lists as the knight of the laughing tree.

"Have you thought of why?" he inquires one night, nearing three weeks into their journey and only a day or so past Summerhall and on the Boneway proper.

Alys nodded, looking towards where Elia was lying asleep with Rhaenys curled against her back and Aegon in her arms against her front. "I think she thought herself in love." Alys fiddled with a stick, stoking the fire before them a second to watch the sparks fly up into the dark sky.

"Had she even met him before it all?"

Alys bit her lips, worrying them heavily before sighing and knowing she can talk with Howland on this. If she knows anything about her friend, it's that any secret is safe with him, "during the tourney." She twirls the stick between her fingers. "After her last joust, after you'd left her to hide the shield… he came across her apparently. Discovered that she was the knight that had caused all the fuss."

"She never said…"

"She didn't even tell me about it until months later." Alys had wondered at that, worried over it. All their lives she'd believed that the two of them had never kept secrets from the other, everything one of them knew the other was not far behind to learn. Was that the first time her sister had kept something from her?

Did she even have a right to be upset about it? Does them being twins mean they couldn't have their own secrets?

"That's why she didn't show up till dinner," Alys tells him, "she was with him. She hasn't even told me what they did, if they just talked or more."

"And that's why he crowned her." Howland supposed.

"I suppose." Alys nods, "perhaps he'd wanted to give her a reward for her skill, or perhaps he'd started to care for her." She sighs, dropping the stick and bringing her hands up to run over her face. "Then almost a year later we came across him near Harrenhal again. And not long after that they ran off together."

"Robert Baratheon is certain he kidnapped her," Howland states, "I think that's the general belief across the rebels actually."

"It's what Brandon believed too." Alys says, staring down into the fire. "I still don't know whether I should have said something to him about it, if it would have changed anything."

Howland reaches and squeezes her shoulder, but seems at a loss for words to say for comfort.

Alys sighs and wishes Howland a goodnight before settling onto her cloak for rest.

As she lies, looking up towards the stars she longs momentarily for Jaime and the comfort he's granted her for so long. She'd had a similar conversation with him, and he'd said all the right things to settle her worries. She hopes for not the first or the last time that it will not be too long before she sees him again.

* * *

**Thank you as always for the favorites as well as all your amazing comments! It really makes my day to see your thoughts on what happened and your theories as to what might be coming! **


	21. Looking Homeward

_**Eddard**_

The last week had been Hell for Ned.

Alys's disappearance weighing heavy upon him from the moment he found her room empty and her letter resting neatly upon her desk with his name upon it.

He'd spent the whole rest of that day and the day after with his men searching the keep, and the city, and had some of his men searching outside the walls as well. But Alys, and Howland, were both gone in the wind.

But then he'd been called back to the war, his duty torn between the rebels and his sister.

There was little to be done.

Little he could do.

Robert was still recovering from his injury on the trident, and Jon was needed beside him as they dealt with the implications of establishing a new king. Thus it had already been decided that he would lead his men to deal with the Tyrell's seige on Storms End, while Robert and Jon secured the city and the land surrounding it.

Thus Ned's duty lied not riding south in hopes of finding his sister, either of his sisters, but in riding east to Storms End.

He hated it.

But he'd do it.

Like with everything else since this all started, he'll do his duty.

He hopes, and prays, that Alys will be safe. The best comfort is that Howland is with her, and Ned knows if anyone will keep his sister safe it's the crannogman.

This knowledge though had done little to make Ned's week any better as he prepared for departing Kings Landing.

His last evening in the city was spent with Robert and Jon. Thankfully without the presence of Tywin Lannister who Ned found he had little to nothing nice to say about.

He ate with the pair of them, discussing their plans for when he arrives at Storms End and what was to be done about the Tyrells and the other lords of the Reach. He offers little of his own opinion, mostly he eats his food in sullen silence.

Eventually Jon retires to his own room and Ned is left with Robert.

"I don't think I've seen you so down-trodden," Robert remarks, reaching over and pouring more wine into both of their goblets. "Frowning about this keep the last week."

"My sister is missing."

"You know where she is," Robert points out, "and you know who she's with."

"It is not that simple."

"It's better than when we learned of Lyanna," Robert replies his own tone souring. "Didn't know shit-all when that news came." Ned sighs and reaches for his goblet, taking a long draw from it before setting it back down. "We've won, save a few strays that will be dealt with, we've beaten the Targaryens. Ended a dynasty going back centuries. The pair of us."

"It's you who will be king."

"If you'd like it just say the word," Robert laughs, already knowing the answer Ned will give.

"Not in any world," Ned laughs as well, though it was quieter than Roberts own booming one.

"Regardless of who sits on the throne, it was us. And Jon. We are who's building this new kingdom up." Robert smiles and reaches over to rest a hand on Ned's shoulder. "And soon you'll secure Storm's End, and find Alys who'll likely have found Lyanna by then."

"Yes," Ned nodded, "hopefully."

"Dorne." Robert shakes his head, "damned man dragged the poor girl all the way to that red waste."

"Lyanna once said she'd love to see Dorne," Ned noted.

"I doubt it was like this, kidnapped and Gods know what else." Robert frowns, his eyes getting the familiar rage behind them that came with the thought of Rhaegar.

"I'll simply be happy when my family is home," Ned sighs. "When I can see Winterfell again, and bury my father and brother properly."

"Don't go running off North so quick though Ned," Robert asks. "I mean it, we're building this new kingdom together, and if Jons right the first several months after the war finishes will be the hardest, the most important." Ned looks to Robert. His greatest friend holds his gaze, a determined look that reveals to Ned how important this is to him. "I need you at my side Ned, as much as I need Jon."

"The pair of you have always been better at southern politics than I, Robert." Ned offered.

"Exactly why I need your stubborn honor-bound ass in this city," Robert jokes, a smile on his face wide and honest. "I'm not asking for you to settle here in the city the rest of your life, just long enough to help me ensure this all doesn't come crumbling down on me the second we've settled in."

Ned looks over Robert, a man who has become as close as a brother, and sighs. "Alright," he nods, "I'll return, help you with it. And then I'm taking my, as you so politely put it, stubborn honor-bound ass home."

Robert laughs and refills their goblets. The pair of them settling into the night of drink and conversation as familiarly as though they were still two boys in the Vale with little to worry over but being found drunk by Jon.

* * *

The next morning Ned made his way into the Godswood before departing the city. He hadn't spent much time in the place after Alys had left, he saw little point in praying at a tree with no true connection to the Gods he wished to reach.

But he felt like visiting it all the same that morning. Perhaps more for Alys than any religious reasoning. She'd seemed fond of the place the day she left, so he made his way through the winding paths of the place that must have brought his sister some comfort in her year of solitude.

He eyes the big heart tree as he approaches it, a large oak with vines and smokeberries covering the trunks and carefully tended flowers of dragons breath cultivated around it. The eyrie hadn't had a weirwood either, as the tree had never been able to take root there. But if he'd ever wanted to find one all he'd had to do was head down the mountain to the Gates of the Moon castle's Godswood.

It was a sight to see, he figured, but a disappointing one for what it was meant to represent.

"She had the same look of disappointment when she first saw it," Ned turns from the tree to spot Jaime Lannister, looking relaxed upon a stone bench in the clearing about the heart tree. Ned figures he must have been there before him, and he'd been focused more upon the tree, and deep in his own thoughts, that he hadn't noticed Jaime was present until his voice spoke out. "I thought it was oddly funny. Especially considering she'd asked to visit it in the first place."

"It's not a weirwood," Ned responds gruffly, turning back to the tree. Hoping that Jaime will leave him be.

"No, evidently that was what had disappointed her," his voice sounds almost thoughtful, "didn't stop her from visiting it daily, kneeling and praying before it."

Ned keeps quiet. He had disagreed with Robert and Jon's decision to give Jaime free reign of the keep. Had voiced readily his opinion of the man many were starting to call 'Kingslayer'. It still hadn't been decided what ultimately would happen to him, or any of the kingsguard in truth. But Ned had been sure to tell Robert it would be a mistake to trust a man who readily cut down his former king.

Ned thinks, for a blessed moment of peace, that Jaime has decided to leave the conversation where it had fallen. But then the man steps up beside him, peering at him with sharp green eyes as he asks, "I heard she left?"

"I don't wish to, nor am I required to, discuss my sister with you." Ned states, glancing at the man. He recalled easily when he first saw Alys, he'd been ordering his men about after securing the throne room. Then he'd spotted her, it had taken him a second to realize she was talking with Jaime, a second more to note how close they'd stood or that she'd held her hand to his face. He'd had no time to really think further on it, as soon after she'd been his arms and all that occupied his mind was that she was there and she was safe.

But after, especially when he'd arranged the Jaime's seclusion within the keep, he'd thought of it further. Recalled Barristan's words, that the two of them had grown close. What Ned saw in the throne room was clear evidence of that, and Ned was certain he disliked it.

"I was simply curious whether you believe she is safe," Jaime asks, "she ran off, no? With some bannerman of yours, do you trust him and his skill to keep her alive?"

Ned turns more fully to the Kingslayer, he still looked much the same as when he last saw Jaime. His face gave little away to whatever was running through his mind, and his eyes held what seemed an ever-present glint of trouble to the emerald green. Ned disliked him, he disliked his actions and his disregard for honor. But the way he spoke gave more than his passive face, and Ned could see little reason for Jaime to ask after his sister other than concern.

So he sighs, "Howland has fought beside me since the Battle of the Bells. He's skilled, and resourceful." He watches Jaime carefully, but still finds him too hard to read. "He's also been close with both my sisters since Harrenhal, and I do not doubt that he would do all he could to keep Alys safe."

Jaime eyed Ned for a second of silence, before nodding, and shifting back to looking at the large tree once more. "It's quite funny really," he remarks after a few more moments, "she spends this last year, praying for your safety and arrival in Kings Landing." Green eyes peer over to Ned and he smirks, "to leave only days after you finally get here."

Ned frowns, but nothing more is said as Jaime tilts his head in farewell and leaves the northman alone at the tree. Ned watches after the knight as he walks away, and wonders after a moment if he'd come to the tree for the same reason Ned had.

_**Alys**_

Traveling through the Boneway was fairly monotonous. The days forming a pattern and rhythm that Alys wasn't sure if it made it feel quicker or slower.

Sometimes it depended on the day.

They usually woke with the sun, and Howland would likely already be up by the time Alys or Elia has awoken. He'd be readying a breakfast for them all, which Alys would often help him with if she woke before he finished. Elia would tend Aegon, and Rhaenys would spend most of her morning once she woke up either following one of the adults around or petting one of the horses.

Rhaenys had become especially fond of the horses, even taking up the task of naming them. Giving the titles Nymeria and Mors respectively after Elia told her the tale of her houses beginning one evening. She all but demands to help anytime Howland tended to one of them.

Alys had the feeling she was missing Balerion, she'd already asked once if they would go back to the keep some day to get him. But the horses proved a good distraction for the girl, and she seemed content anytime she was around them.

Aegon seemed to be doing well with the travel, another worry Alys had realized after they'd already started. But he had little to no issues with it, he slept well at night and didn't seem to be coming down with any illnesses. And when they stopped in the evenings he toddled around their makeshift camp after his sister.

Elia was not so favorably lucky. By the end of each day she seemed exhausted, almost always laying herself by the fire and finding sleep. Alys did what she could for her friend, keeping an eye on Rhaenys and Aegon, and making sure Elia was as comfortable as could be.

To say Alys was looking forward to the end of the traveling would be accurate. They were lucky so far, with little obstacles in their way and the weather being favorable considering the storm they'd exited during. She woke every morning and whispered a prayer that it would continue.

She wanted to be off the road. She wanted to be certain the five of them were safe. She wanted Elia to be able to rest properly and get well, and for Rhaenys and Aegon to not have to be traveling any longer.

She wanted to figure out where Rhaegar had left Lyanna in Dorne, and find her sister.

She wanted this all, so that at the end of it all she could finally go home. So she could see Winterfell, and Benjen, and the Godswood with its proper weirwood tree at its heart.

She was thankful when they were finally in Dorne proper, out of the Boneway and past Yronwood. Elia seemed to be as well, as it seemed the familiar sights of her home country brought some life back into her despite so long of feeling ill on the journey.

They are traveling through the more arid stretch of land between the forested foothills around Yronwood and the more fertile lands along the Greenblood river. Alys finds it hotter temperatures than she's ever felt, sweltering in the sun and thankful when they stop in a patch of shade by some rocks near midday for a rest. Elia basks in the sun though, and seems all the more radiant in her own homeland of comfort.

They lounge against the rocks, Elia and Alys with Aegon between them while they pass food back and forth. Howland is brushing down the horses while Rhaenys stands dutifully nearby with her own brush to assist him. "I think we're getting close to the Scourge." Elia remarks, looking out into the flat ground.

"Have you travelled through this way?"

"Once, Oberyn and I travelled to Yronwood for a time, until he got ran out for sleeping with the lords paramour and killing the man in a duel." Elia says while she smiles lightly at the memory. "He went overseas for quite some time after, in exile in all but name. He returned when Rhaenys was born. But if I recall he had plans in Essos after Harrenhal."

"Perhaps he came home with all that's been happening," Alys suggests.

"I'm sure he did," Elia looks down at Aegon, "we were always close growing up, with only a year between us in age." She runs a gentle hand over her sons head, a gentle and nostalgic look to her eyes, "I look forward to seeing him, and having him meet his nephew and seeing Rhaenys again. I look forward to being home, with family."

Alys smiles, and leans against the rock further, thinking once again as she often did of her own home and family and how far they were, especially now.

They spend only an hour or so resting in the shade before they return to horseback and continue onward.

Two hours pass when Howland stops them in their tracks. He holds a hand up and squints forward in the sun. "What is it?" Alys asks, but he shakes his head and his eyes fall shut a few moments before he turns to the two women on the horse behind his own.

"People, ahead," Howland shifted his gaze to Elia, "a few had sunbursts on their armor."

"Then it could be Martell men?" Alys inquires, shifting her grip on the reigns and looking the direction Howland had but finding it hard to see what it was he had.

"Most likely," Howland affirmed. "Is it worth the risk?"

"We're closer to my own people than those that would harm me," Elia states, "and if you are right and it's sunbursts on them then it is men of my own house." She shifts Aegon in front of her and peers over her shoulder to Alys.

"It's worth seeing," Alys finally says, "though perhaps we should be careful, hide Aegon, his hair gives him away the most."

Elia nods, "can you tell us when we're close enough to be seen? I'll shift my cloak, cover him."

Howland nods, and they cautiously continue forward.

Howland whistles after several minutes, low so only they can hear and with it Elia shifts her cloak carefully, not enough that Aegon was smothered but so he'd remain unseen by others. Alys gripped the reigns tighter and steered them closer to Howland and Rhaenys.

When she looks forward she can start to make out the figures Howland had noticed before them. Half a dozen men she counts, all astride horses and as they grow closer she can see that they're all armed.

They're close enough to make out the speared sunburst sigil on their clothes and the details of their faces when Elia sits straighter, a soft gasp from her lips as she seems to recognize them.

It took a second longer for Alys, but she she recognized the man at the front. He was of similar age to Elia, with similarly dark brown skin though his was darker from more time in the Dornish sun while Elia had been further north for years now. He looks much the same as when Alys had danced with him in Harrenhal. And he holds a similar reaction to Elia's own when he sees her, and soon a smile brightens his face as the two groups come to a stop in front of each other.

"Elia," he says, clear joy to his voice as he looks over the group. "We'd hard whispers from a spider that you were making your way home," his eyes flick back toward Alys where she peers over Elia's shoulder, "escorted by a wolf."

"Oberyn," Elia breathes out, and Alys feels the nerves fall from her as they arrive, perhaps not in location but in company, to the safety she'd longed to get Elia and her children to.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Also as always thank you for the favorites and the reviews. It always makes my day anytime I see all your thoughts and opinions on this story and what you think/want to happen next. **

**One note I feel like mentioning: In canon Ned leaves Kings Landing sooner than in this fic, he also doesn't return to Kings Landing after finding Lyanna. It's a bit different here primarily because of the fact that he and Robert aren't at odds over the deaths of Elia and her children, thus they don't have that rift in their friendship at this point like they did in canon. **


	22. The Water Gardens of Dorne

_**Oberyn**_

When news of Rhaegar's disappearance, and the growing rebellion reached Oberyn in Essos he hadn't hesitated in sailing home. Only to be cautioned by his brother and kept in Sunspear doing what he hated most.

Sitting by and waiting for news.

Their sister was kept hostage, her children kept hostage. And with them unable to do anything but send men north for a king Oberyn had disliked from the second he wrinkled his nose at Elia during her wedding to Rhaegar.

Then their uncle died, and Rhaegar died, and news of the city falling arrived to them before the Spiders letter telling them of Elia's escape with the Stark girl.

Oberyn had wanted to head north the second they learned of it, but Doran had kept him waiting longer, until they heard of her arrival in Dorne proper. He understood his brothers reasoning, it would have done them all little good as he would have had no way of knowing that Elia and her companions took the Boneway rather than Prince's Pass. But the moment the news of them passing through into Dorne reached Doran and Oberyn was the moment he rode out with a small retinue of guards in search of his sister.

Seeing her, out on the arid desert, was the best sight Oberyn had had in months.

Their return to the Water Gardens, the better choice to hide and blend the children in than Sunspear, was a welcome one. Though Elia spent the first week of it resting, the journey harsh on her. Oberyn was glad when he saw that she began to regain some energy near the end of the first week.

She did join Doran and his discussions though, the three Martell siblings talking over what came next. They were all in a precarious position. Robert Baratheon had declared himself king and had a large portion of the Seven Kingdoms supporting him. Aerys had garnered little support in his last years, and Rhaegars actions for the last two hindered his own image. The Stag King was already becoming popular amongst the people.

And from what Alys Stark had told them he was determined to see the Targaryen line end.

They'd been discussing it near two weeks, and it seemed the decisions were finally made when Oberyn finds his brother sitting on his balcony overlooking the Water Gardens, writing letters carefully upon his desk.

"You already know what you wish to do," Oberyn remarks, walking past his brother to the railing of the balcony to look down upon the gardens.

He spotted Elia, sat on a bench in the shade looking much healthier than she had two weeks past when he'd found her. Beside her is the crannogman who'd been riding with Rhaenys, and the pair of them were watching the little princess run about with Alys Stark in the water. Splashing and laughing as the older woman chased her about, whose skirts were tied up above her knees to keep them some semblance of dry. Oberyn's eyes trail after the pair as they move about, and he smiles lightly with the renewed relief that his niece and his sister were safe here in Dorne.

"Yes," Doran replies, drawing Oberyn's eyes back to him as he writes. "Varys offered a solution for Aegon, it goes well with what we discussed with Mellario about smuggling him to Norvos, hiding him within the estate she still holds there."

"Just Aegon?" Oberyn inquires, they'd discussed the three of them making the travel. Now Doran intended to send just the baby it seemed. "And what of Elia?"

"Elia will stay here," Doran states, finishing his letter and returning his quill to it's spot on his desk. "Aegon's best chance for safety is if no one believes him alive. Arrangements are already in place for that, the Red Keep will believe he died on the journey south."

"You would separate him from family? From his mother and sister?"

"If Elia and Rhaenys go with him it's more likely to be discovered that he lives," Doran rolls the letter he'd written. "More likely that Robert Baratheon will send assassins after them all."

"So if they are not to go with him, what are your intentions?" Oberyn watched as his brother poured wax onto the letter, sealing it with the Martell speared sunburst.

"The rest of the seven kingdoms are not like Dorne," Doran notes, setting the letter aside to be sent later. He looks to Oberyn now, with a look to his face that Oberyn recognizes to mean that he'd determined it all already. Thought it through hard and long and come to his decision, which they all must go along with. "She poses less threat to Robert, at least in their eyes, by virtue of her sex. I intend to negotiate for her, and Elia's, safety."

"They will not let her stay in Dorne," Oberyn protests, "they will not let her stay with family. I do not see why we can not fake her death as well, she is a girl of four. They left in a storm, it would not be a hard thing to tell them she fell into the Blackwater during their escape. Then she could stay here; grow up here."

It was a plan Oberyn had proposed earlier, he had bastard daughters already. Claiming another would raise little brows, and Rhaenys would be free to be amongst her own people rather than those who'd killed her father and would see her dead with him.

But Doran shook his head, standing from the table and moving to rest along the balcony railing with his younger brother. "The likelihood of discovery is too high with that plan," Doran states, "it is better to play at their mercy, as you said she's a girl of four. Little threat."

"Until she grows, a fact that apparently Tywin Lannister was quick to point out to Robert." Oberyn spits out. "We send her anywhere outside of our own lands and the threat of what he tried the night of the seige is inevitable." Alys and Elia had told them of what occurred the night of the siege of Kings Landing. Of the two men who scaled the walls and entered Elia's chambers in search of her and her children. Alys had stated that they were, in fact, Tywin Lannisters men sent to do the deed. It had planted a seed of hate for the Lannister lord deep in Oberyns heart.

"Not if we play our hands right." Doran states, "if we hide her, and it's discovered, we risk this newly formed kingdoms wraith coming down upon us. A kingdom that now is united save for our own. If what I've heard about the Tyrells bending easily upon Lord Starks ending of their seige is correct."

"Let them bring their wraith here." Oberyn declares, fire burning in his veins at the thought of war. "We never bent to the dragons, I doubt the stags or wolves would fare any better against us."

"Rhaenys is young, Aegon younger, let them grow before we go to war for them." Doran replies cooly, "now is not the time for it. A sentiment the rebels will likely share, giving us ground to negotiate upon."

"You are playing a game," Oberyn looks fully to his brother, whose own eyes are down upon their family below. Doran's wit was always his greatest asset, as the spear was Oberyns. The Prince of Dorne had always been one to move pieces around for political gain, always with the interests of Dorne and their family at its heart. But it was this political agenda that had landed their sister in a marriage to Rhaegar in the first place.

A thing Oberyn wonders over whether was the right choice now.

But Oberyn wondered further, whether the choices his brother was making now were the best for them all.

"We'd be bending to them," he states, "when they should be bending to Aegon, or Rhaenys." He looks again to his little niece, down below and laughing. "It is their birthright, not Robert Baratheons."

"I am not arguing that," Doran says, turning to meet Oberyns gaze. "Only that we wait. The risk we run fighting now to put a child or a babe upon the throne is great, especially when we'd be putting them against a man who garners more support by the day."

It was true. Robert Baratheon seemed to gain followers easily, and even now word had traveled that even the maesters of the citadel had found loopholes for support of him through the mans blood-ties to house Targaryen by way of his grandmother. It seemed by now, nearing two months after the death of King Aerys, Dorne was the only kingdom to have not declared support of Roberts claim to the crown.

And Doran would have them do just that.

"We bide our time, brother." Doran looks back to their sister below, "and make our plans." Laughter echoes up to them, and Oberyn sighs as he knows there is little he can do. His brother is the Prince of Dorne, his brother is who decides. "Besides," Doran remarks, "Elia has already agreed with this."

"She is fine with potentially being separated from not just one but both of her children?"

"She wishes them alive, and safe more than anything else."

"They will never be safe," Oberyn states. The world can be cruel, especially to those as young as his niece and nephew.

"No," Doran concedes. "But we will do all we can to make them prepared."

_**Alys**_

The Water Gardens of Dorne are a pleasant place of recluse, especially after the hard period of travel they'd been on. Warm days easily cooled by the many pools of water that are frequented by nobles and small folk alike. It's a welcome locale, especially as the heat is more than Alys has felt in her life, and even with the dornish style dresses the Martells had found for her she still ends up sweating and overheated if she is not careful.

But she doesn't mind it, not when she spends her days with Elia or Rhaenys amongst the pools. The little girl taking it the most in stride, running about with the other children in the gardens and spending more time laughing than anything else.

It would have been entirely peaceful, and she would have been content to enjoy it, if not for the looming worry over her sister that seemed persistent as her time in Dorne continued.

She considered departing with Howland, but it seemed Doran Martell wished her there until he deemed ready to release her. She couldn't blame him, not truly, it was smarter to keep her until they'd decided what was to be done next.

She just hoped it was soon.

Elia was doing better at least, healthier than she'd been on the road. It seemed home was something she had missed as much as Alys misses Winterfell. The Dornish sun and cool breezes off the Summer Sea doing the Princess wonders and leaving her looking more content than she had in all the time Alys had known her.

Alys was alone right now, out in a more secluded alcove of foliage of the Water Gardens. In a spot where a pleasant sea breeze came through on occasion to ruffle her hair and the thin fabrics of her dress. She had wanted some time alone, and some time to work on the letter Doran had asked her to write the day before to her brother. Howland would have accompanied her if she'd not told him that she wished to be alone. Her friend and fellow northerner had stayed near her side most of their time here. Today instead he was with Elia and Rhaenys in the more populated parts of the Water Gardens, likely playing with the little princess who had grown fond of him and his tales of the Reeds moving castle in the swamps of the north.

She finishes her letter, but doesn't seal it, knowing Doran wanted to read it before it was sent off. She only knew a little of what they planned, only what Doran had trusted her with so she could play her own role. She was part of it, regardless, just by virtue of her getting Elia and the children out in the first place.

She knew Aegon's death would be faked, and the boy smuggled away. She'd had to write of the babes death in her letter to Ned, along with her confession of her actions. It was decided she would admit her part in their survival, and her part in their escape, in hopes that it would lend believability in the lies they'd tell to keep the boy safe. Ned would trust her, she knew it and had said as much when Doran asked, as she can't recall a time she ever lied to any of her siblings. Thus she has never given them cause to distrust her or her word.

The closest she ever came was omitting truths. A different form of lying, to be sure, but one she felt more comfortable with.

Now she would be lying outright. Telling him something happened that did not.

She didn't like it, lying to Ned. But she recognized the need for it. It was not her truth to tell. She would do as the Martells trusted her to, as Elia trusted her to.

"My sister informed me you enjoy chess," she jumps, just slightly, at Oberyn's voice as he enters the little alcove she's sat in. Her thoughts far from her and thus her attention distracted to not see him when he arrived. "I personally enjoy cyvasse, a game I learnt over seas, but they have their similarities."

She glances to him, and smiles "well, I've always enjoyed chess, but I am more than willing to learn something new." She tilts her head towards the set he holds in his arms.

"Good," he smiles, a tilted and teasing looking thing that reminds her of when she'd danced with him in Harrenhal. He'd smiled then too, and answered all her questions of Dorne when she asked. She'd thought him quite handsome then, and found he still was now. "I didn't disturb you too much did I?" he inquires as he sits upon the bench with her, his eyes glancing to the letter as she moves it to make room for the cyvasse board between them.

She shakes her head, "no, I just finished writing it." She watches carefully as he begins to set up the board so she could perhaps start to garner an understanding of it. "I was just enjoying some peace before I brought it to your brother."

"You believe that your brother will trust your word?" Oberyn asks, glancing up at her as she sighs at the reminder of her impending dishonesty to Ned.

"Yes," she nods. "I've never given him reason not to."

"Other than running off in the night," Oberyn jests, and she laughs lightly.

"I suppose other than that," she sighs. "I've never truly lied to him, or any of my siblings. If anything I was the one always mediating their misunderstandings."

"I apologize then for the position we put you in," he offers, and she feels he's genuine that. "And offer our appreciations for it. And for all the rest you've done at great danger to yourself for my family."

"It was the right thing to do," she says. "I can't imagine a scenario where I wouldn't have."

"And I am glad for it," he tilts his head in thanks."Now, the rules of cyvasse…" he starts and she smiles, ready to enjoy just a bit longer of peace and distraction from her worries.

* * *

Oberyn was right, cyvasse held plenty of similar qualities to chess. Though it was more complex. Thus where Alys felt quite secure and certain in her ability to win games of chess, she didn't win a single game against Oberyn for the few hours they sat together playing. She did get close, apparently, and in that she took some pride as he began to pack up the game.

"I wished to offer something," he spoke carefully. "Well, Elia and I did, but it would be I that would be helping you with it."

"Something other than a game?" She ponders, a smile playing at her lips.

"Yes," he chuckles. "Something I believe you'll appreciate much more as well."

"I appreciated this cyvasse game quite a bit," she muses. "So I imagine it would have to be something quite big."

"Elia and I have discussed it," he starts, "we believe we know where Rhaegar would have been in Dorne." Alys stills, eyeing Oberyn carefully. "Where your sister likely still is."

"Really?" her teasing tone from before is gone and now just quiet tentative hope. She hadn't planned on asking them, perhaps Elia but not her brothers. As she had worried when she'd first met Elia over what views she'd have of her because of Lyanna's actions; she'd worried on what the Martell Princes would think as well. She recognized they'd have more than plenty of reason to dislike her because of it, and more than enough reason to not assist her in finding her sister.

Oberyn nods, "really." His grin growing larger and prouder at her apparent dumbstruck look. He stands, offering a hand to her as she stands with him. "There is a tower, in Prince's Pass, called the Tower of Joy. My family gifted it to Rhaegar upon his marriage to Elia, a wedding gift."

"And he would have taken my sister there?" Alys asks.

"Aside from the irony of bringing a stolen girl to a gift given by his wife's family," Oberyn says glancing away, and in it she spots a bit of dark anger flash on his eyes though it leaves after he looks back to her. "It would make sense. It's secluded in the mountains, hard to find if you don't know to look for it."

"And you said you'd help me with it?"

"I will escort you and your man Howland to it," Oberyn says. "My brother may not entirely approve, as it will postpone his plans until we return. But, Elia and I both believe it is the least we can do for you. Considering."

Alys looked him over, and let out a light breath of relief before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. He chuckled, so she didn't feel as bad for invading his space with it. "Thank you," she says against his chest. Pulling back she looks at him, his hands resting upon her arms as he looks down and nods, "I… I could not be more grateful."

"I am happy to be of help to the woman who likely saved my sister and her children." He says it, seriousness to his tone and sincerity to his eyes. "Now, let us go give my brother your letter and inform him that we'll be departing in the morning."

She nods, and together the pair of them head off in search of Doran. Alys feeling light as air with the knowledge that she would soon be heading for her sister.

* * *

**Thank you as always for reading and for all the amazing comments! Let me know your thoughts ands theories as they always make my day. I'm very happy that I've been writing so much for this, lets hope it keeps up for a long while! **


	23. Happy Endings

**_Jaime_**

Something big happened today apparently.

Not that Jaime really noticed. He just went about his day as usual.

He woke early, sparred with whatever man of his father's was willing. Which, considering his new reputation, was actually hard to find now. It seemed not many men wished to go against the 'kingslayer' as the new king Robert had dubbed him one drunken evening during a feast to celebrate Stark's lifting of the siege of Storms End. Still, he found someone willing, or at least more afraid of saying no, and sparred for a few good hours before wandering the keep for a short while and finding food for lunch.

Then, without fail, he found himself wandering in his mindlessness—or perhaps not so mindless— until he stopped before the big old heart tree of the Red Keep's godswood. He stares at it, and wonders on Alys a moment.

It's very likely pathetic.

He shouldn't miss her as he does. For one he should not have even been as fond of her as he was. But he was, and there was little to be done about that.

But he should not miss her as much as he does. Miss her voice, and chess games, and sleeping beside her, and even just sitting nearby her while she prays before this big old tree like she did every day.

So she's gone, that was going to happen eventually anyway.

She was going to return to Winterfell with her brother and he'd be left here in Kings Landing guarding a king, or in Casterly Rock if his father got his way, or who knows at this point what will be done with him not much headway has been made there.

Not that he even really knows what he wants to be done with him.

He's not entirely fond of Robert, and so serving him would likely only be marginally better than serving Aerys.

And if he returns to Casterly Rock he'll get to reunite with Cersei.

Unless of course their father gets his way and she marries Robert. Though it seems the Baratheon king is holding out hope that his _one true love_ (as though he weren't spending plenty of time with serving ladies and whores) would return to him and they'd be married and live happily ever after.

Jaime sincerely doubted that would be the case. Especially considering what he knows of Lyanna's disappearance from Alys.

But who is he to dash a king's hopes for love.

Though a part of him would likely find it marginally amusing. If not for the fact that he'd overheard some other lord talk on how perhaps if Lyanna was not adequate for the kings hand upon her return that Robert would marry the other Stark girl instead. As it wasn't all that different than Eddard Stark marrying his brother's betrothed after Brandon's death.

That thought in general left a sour taste in Jaime's mouth after overhearing it.

He wondered what Alys would think of that, she'd told him herself that she'd offered once before to take Lyanna's place to marry Robert and it was her father that had refused that. Would she offer it again now, or accept it if it was placed before her?

Jaime frowns at the tree, he wonders if Ned Stark would refuse it as her father had.

He's spared thinking any further on that particular train of thought by his father's arrival in the godswood. His mind turns instead to what in the gods name is his father doing in the godswood?

"Jaime." Apparently looking for him, it seems.

"Father," Jaime looks over to Tywin, "come to pray?" He smiles widely.

"Have you?" Tywin questions, with less jest to his voice than Jaime's had had. Plus, Jaime gets the distinct impression that he asks with the answer already in mind, which quite honestly makes Jaime want to squirm. "Or are you here for other reasons? I hear you come here frequently." Jaime supposes it was stupid to think his father would not hear about his going-ons, and for him to think he'd not be questioned on it.

"On occasion," Jaime shrugs, hoping to pass it off as nothing his father need wonder on. "Most prefer the gardens over the godswood, thus there are less people to fake polite conversation with."

"I don't recall you ever frequenting the godswood at the Rock." Tywin points out.

"No," Jaime looks away from his father, preferring entirely to look at the big old tree instead. "I never really did."

"A letter from Doran Martell reached Jon Arryn today," his father states, apparently deciding to be done with small talk and to move on to what it was he'd sought Jaime out for in the first place. "Elia Martell is in Sunspear, not a surprising reveal. It had been assumed that she would go either there or to Dragonstone." Jaime peers to his father, who is studying him closely, "the more surprising part is that Alys Stark apparently is responsible for getting her there."

Jaime's head turned fully to his father then, shock making his brows furrow as he processes what it was that Tywin just said.

"Alys smuggled Elia out of Kings Landing?" he asked.

"Apparently," His father was still studying him and Jaime realized why he was being told this by his father rather than hearing it through the grapevine of courtly gossip.

"You think I helped her." Jaime crosses his arms.

"Did you?" Tywin asks, and Jaime has the clear idea that his father would not approve if he had.

Luckily, he hadn't. "No," Jaime states, "first I've heard of this. I mean I was aware Alys and the princess of Dorne were close, but that she hid her away and smuggled her from the city, that I had not a clue about." He shifts further, recalling what he'd heard about his father's favored knight, The Mountain, apparently having been sent ahead to the keep that night. "I imagine that's quite frustrating though, for everyone. A simple girl of eight and ten hid three of the most valuable people of the keep. For two whole days as well. Despite countless people looking for them. It's quite commendable really."

"Not in the eyes of Robert Baratheon," Tywin states his voice harsh and blunt, "who was quite enraged to learn that they'd slipped away from him."

"And you," Jaime jokes. "It was your men searching for them as well, both the night of the siege and after, was it not?"

Tywin's gaze darkened towards Jaime, but the young lion kept the smirk upon his face. Really, he had to praise Alys for it, she managed to allude them all.

Had her brother known?

Jaime doubts it.

The ever-honorable Ned Stark would never have kept such a secret from his king.

"The meeting was ended early after the news was shared," Tywin notes, he'd been attending meetings and such with the new king and Jon Arryn since the siege. Perhaps hoping to retake his position as Hand. "Jon Arryn dismissing it to talk Robert down from his anger towards the Stark girl, the king even spoke of it being treason. It is unknown whether Ned Stark knew of it, but it seemed the assumption was that he did not."

Any amusement Jaime found at the situation fell away with the words of treason. Would Alys be punished for this act? Possibly, but even with his honor Jaime doubted Ned Stark would stand for his sister to be killed for it.

_At least he doesn't have to worry over her taking Lyanna's spot as Roberts betrothed anymore_, Jaime muses to himself.

"She likely did it more out of compassion rather than any support of the Targaryen dynasty," Jaime offers. "She was always of the gentler sort."

"You knew her well?" Tywin asked, and once again Jaime had the feeling that his father already knew the answer.

Jaime felt like cursing court gossip then, as it's likely that's where most of his father's understanding of his and Alys's closeness came from. It wasn't exactly any secret that Jaime spent time with her outside of his guard duty, especially after she no longer was under guard and it likely became more apparent that the two of them had found a friendship.

He doesn't like his father knowing that, for he knows his father will find some way to spin it in the name of Lannister advantage. But he also cannot lie about it, for he also knows that his father will be able to decipher the truth from whatever he says now. But he could play it off, perhaps, so it's less important than it is.

"Well enough," Jaime shrugs. "I was her guard in the early days of her being here, and well talking to her was far less boring than staring at a wall while stood outside her door. Besides, there could be less favorable company in Kings Landing than a pretty highborn girl."

His father's pale green eyes studied him intensely, judging his words it seemed and coming to his conclusions from them. Likely forming plans and ideas as well, though Jaime doubted he'd be told until they were relevant, if they ever were.

"Well," his father starts after moments of silent study, "Doran Martell has sued for peace, it seems he doesn't wish for war, only his sister and her childrens lives." Jaime listens, "and Jon Arryn seemed to be advising Robert not only to lessen his anger at the Stark girl but to consider the Martell's offers."

"That all sounds good," Jaime smiles once more, though he still felt incredibly tense from his fathers analyzing. "Seems like a happy ending is on its way."

At least he hopes one is, for Alys's sake.

**_Alys_**

The departure from the Water Gardens was much more pleasant than the departure from Kings Landing. They left by water, same as Kings Landing, but it was on a proper ship and not a smugglers row boat. Sailing down along the Dornish coast Alys spent a good portion of the journey either enjoying the salt-air or playing cyvasse with Oberyn.

Howland seemed content with it as well. Enjoying a good portion of their sea journey with his eyes shut enjoying the sea air as well while he sat upon the deck as they moved through the summer sea.

Alys was glad to be moving towards Lyanna. Glad of Oberyn and Elia's vow to help her find her sister, and Doran's— albeit begrudging— agreeing to postpone his plans for their return to Kings Landing to find peace with Robert and Jon Arryn until Alys and Oberyn had found Lyanna and returned to Sunspear. Even Alys's letter for her brother was waiting or her return to send. Though she didn't know where they'd send it, last she'd heard from around the Water Gardens her brother was in the Stormlands having lifted the seige on Storms End.

She wondered how he'll take the news. What his thoughts on her hiding and smuggling Elia and her children away from Kings Landing will be. She can't imagine he'll be pleased she kept it from him. But she hopes that he'll listen to her reasoning, he'd heard Roberts rage as much— or more— than her. He'd seemed low on hope himself for being able to convince Robert to spare them then, but now, with Dorne behind them and the threat of more war looming, perhaps Robert can be convinced.

Especially with it only being Rhaenys and Elia who'll be presented to him.

She hopes Robert will see little threat in a woman and her daughter.

They sail up the Brimstone to Hellholt, the seat of House Uller, where they spend only a day resting before setting out on horseback towards the Princes Pass. Alys finds it an interesting keep, exploring it leisurely alongside Oberyn and escorted by the lord's bastard daughter Ellaria. With whom Oberyn seems to get along well with in flirtatious enough of a way that Alys leaves them to their banter to take in the the keeps library most of the remaining evening before their morning departure.

Even with her enjoyment of the keep, she was glad to be on their way the next morning.

It was only the three of them from there, Oberyn leading the way with Howland and Alys following behind. He talked as the moved at times, telling Alys more about the area, and even some of the history of these particular parts of Dorne.

She was glad for the distraction in truth, worry over her sister only seemed to grow as they neared Prince's Pass.

She would have thought it would lessen, with the knowledge that she'd see her sister soon. She should be happy, and relieved, as she was when they first set off from the Water Gardens or when Oberyn had told her he'd help her find Lyanna.

But instead she worried. What would she find at the Tower of Joy?

Would it be good, or bad, or somewhere between?

Her sister would be there, with answers as to what truly happened. Why she ran away with Rhaegar? Why she stayed away for all this time?

All the truths that Alys had wondered on since she woke to her sister missing over a year and a half ago.

There would be three kingsguard there still as well. The Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Arthur Dayne.

It had sat in the back of her mind ever since she learned Rhaegar left them with her sister. Lingering there waiting for understanding, for reasoning.

Why would he leave three kingsguard with her sister?

Why did they not return with him? If not to fight alongside him, then to protect the King that they were sworn to, or the queen, or any of the children of the royal line?

Alys felt she knew the answer.

She simply didn't want to think on what it meant.

She'd rather believe that when she arrives at the Tower of Joy, her sister will be there like no time had passed.

That things would be simple, and they could go home happily together.

That it would all end with no trouble or difficulties.

But as they passed through the Prince's Pass, and Oberyn pointed out the tower in question off in the distance hidden among rocky mountains, Alys knew deep within her that it would not be so happy an ending.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**

**We're heading into the Tower of Joy stuff and I'm nervously excited to explore all that.**

**Thank you as always for all the favorites and the amazing reviews!**


	24. Tower of Joy

**_Lyanna_**

She was supposed to walk around. The books said it would help, and perhaps it would but Lyanna was tired of walking the same little paths of the tower that she'd walked for over a year. She wished she were still allowed to walk about the paths outside of the tower, but for the last month none of the kingsguard had been willing to run the risk of her leaving the tower.

She was tired of it.

And tired in general.

She slumps over a bit against the window, looking out over the expansive landscape of the Red Mountains. It was a familiar view.

She could likely paint it without looking by now.

A sigh escapes her lips and she leans what little she can with her stomach as round as it is to look down. She can just barely see Oswell making his rounds outside of the tower, looking for danger. None would come, nothing had come to this tower since Gerold Hightower had arrived for Rhaegar.

"Careful not to fall." Arthur's voice comes over her shoulder and she looks quickly to him.

"I'm too big now to fall out," Lyanna says with a forced smile, her tone more biting than joking. "No worries that I'll jump either."

Arthur frowns, "Lya…"

"I know," she sighs, it was hard though to keep the bitterness from her tone. "I chose this. I remember." She remembers Rhaegar telling her that, when he finally told her of her family's reactions.

"I was going to say that you shouldn't even be sitting." And she frowns further at the kingsguard.

"I hate that you read those books as well," she states, pushing herself up from her seat. Arthur moves further into the room, holding a hand out for her to take to help her up. She takes it, though she wish she could do it herself still.

"It's best we are prepared," he remarks, "though I'm still trying to convince the Lord Commander to let me go to Starfall for an actual midwife."

"And a wet-nurse." Lya says, resting a hand tentatively on her stomach.

"You won't need one." Arthur assures.

"It's better to be safe." She remarks, she'd been having bad dreams for weeks about the birth. Dreams of bloody beds and winter roses.

It did not make her feel assured about any of this.

Arthur simply shakes his head and the pair of them slowly walk the rounds of the tower.

They're on their third bout around when the sound of riders and Oswell shouting reaches through the windows of the tower. Lyanna frowns, looking towards the window as Arthur moves over and peers out, he frowns as well and then looks to Lyanna with concern. "Stay here." He instructs, moving to the stairs leading down the tower.

"What?" Lyanna asks before moving to the window herself and looking out.

Below she sees three riders. Oswell and Hightower have already met them with some distance, and Lyanna acutely notes they are greeting the riders with their hands upon their swords at the ready.

Lyanna looked to the riders and leant slightly further into the window, trying to make out their features. She could see that the man at the head was Dornish, his brown skin giving that much away, but the two behind him were paler. A short man upon a horse and woman who pushed her own horse up beside the Dornishmans.

As she stares at the woman her breath freezes in her throat, a choked sound coming out as she recognizes the woman. Dark brown hair braided for riding, pale skin that is more likely to burn this far south than tan, and if Lyanna were close enough she knows she'd see grey eyes to match her own.

She pushes away from the window and moves quicker than she has in weeks in her state, making her way down the stairs and towards the door. Arthur left it open, the sunlight shining through as she pushes it the rest of the way and starts down the mountain stone steps.

Arthur is lingering on the steps and hears her coming, "Lyanna go back…"

"Not a chance in all seven hells, Arthur," she snaps, starting past him. "That's my sister," she adds when he grabs her arm in an attempt to stop her. She looks up at him, his violet eyes meeting her grey.

"We have to keep you and your child safe." He implores, dropping into his kingsguard position which is Lyanna's least favorite part of him.

"My sister isn't here to kill me or my baby." She snaps. "Let me past." She orders.

"Lya…"

"No," she shakes her head, "you can't call me Lya as though we are friends when you're keeping me from the first family I'll have seen since I left her asleep in her bed at Harrenhal."

He looks at her and she can see him giving in, and she can't help but smile slightly with pride at it as he releases her arm and she continues down the steps as fast as she can in her state.

Arthur moves with her, close enough incase she falls but enough space that she's not worried about him doing something stupid. It's once they're near the bottom that she can see the riders and the other two kingsguard again.

She'd been sure it was her sister before, but now she can truly see Alys. Sat upon a dornish sand steed and looking down at Gerold Hightower with wide eyes in an imploring look. And behind her on another horse was Howland Reed, looking near the same as he had last she'd seen him. It makes her chest tight with how much she'd missed them both. How much she'd missed her family and the north.

But it's the Dornishman beside her sister that speaks, "here I thought all you kingsguard were honorable men." He speaks with a sharp jest to his voice, like venom on a snakes tongue. "But you'd keep a girl from her twin sister, after near two years of said sister being missing."

"She wasn't missing." Hightower remarks.

"Clearly she was. Considering the whole mess that came of it." The man, who Lyanna finally recognized from the tourney of Harrenhal as Oberyn Martell, snaps with something bitter behind his tone.

"Please, ser," Alys pleads, "she's my sister. Let me see her."

"We are not to let anyone in—."

"Hightower," Lyanna called loudly from the bottom of the mountain stairs. "Let me see my bloody sister." All five faces turn towards her and Alys's face falls into something a mix of relief and grief as she swings down from her horse without further thought to the two kingsguard before her who are still resting their hands upon their swords. Alys moves past them all, not caring even as Oswell starts to pull his sword though Hightower stops him as Oberyn swings down as well, a hand upon his spear as he moves forward with Alys.

As she gets closer Lyanna notes little changes about her sister, her hair is longer even in its braid, and her skin just the slightest bit tanner. Though Lyanna's was likely as well, with all her time spent in Dorne. She looked sadder too, Lyanna notes as her sister is nearly to her. Her sister had always been more solemn, same as Ned, but it seemed more permanent upon her now than it ever had been before.

Then her sister is there, with her arms wrapped around Lyanna in a hug so tight and familiar that Lyanna can't help the sobbing sound that escapes her as she wraps her own arms tight around Alys.

**_Alys_**

Seeing Lyanna was almost like seeing a ghost.

It had been so long since she'd seen her. And so much had happened in that time. So much death, and loss.

But there Lyanna was, stood upon rocky steps leading to a tower in the Red Mountains, alive.

Alive, and bringing life.

Alys had noted it, when Lyanna called out and her eyes were drawn to her sister for the first time in a year and a half. But she'd cared little about it at that moment, her mind had locked onto one thing along. That her sister was there, within grasp, finally.

She noted it as well as they made their way back into the tower. The tension between Alys's small party of three and the two kingsguard who'd met them upon their arrival at the tower, but it was dissolved enough that no true conflict would come of it. Oberyn and Howland did stay close to Alys though, and it seemed the kingsguard intended to stay close to Lyanna all the same.

And Alys knew why now.

The evidence was the roundness of her stomach, the slowness of her walk.

Her sister was pregnant.

She didn't bring it up, not right away. She focused instead to her sister's presence, after all this time, and when the door of her room shut with just them within (only after Lyanna had stared down the Lord Commander and demanded privacy with Alys) she looked at her sister in full.

"You're pregnant." Alys states, letting the words and the truth linger.

"Yes." Lyanna nods, glancing down.

"With Rhaegar's child." Alys adds, she figures it but she wants to hear her sister say it.

"Yes, with Rhaegar's child." Lyanna nods, and though something bitter does fly across her sisters eyes it's mixed with a longing and a love that ignites the small flicker of anger Alys has felt at her twin for months.

Anger she's tried to snuff out, to put away. Anger she doesn't want but now can't help but feel once more. "Why?" She says, and she knows her voice is the harshest Lya has heard it by the way her brow furrows. "Why all this? Why did you run away with him?"

"I…" Lya frowns, "because I wanted to." She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, "no I mean, I wanted to and it was the only way for me to be free, Alys please understand."

"Your _freedom_ has brought the kingdoms to war," Alys nearly shouts, "it's locked you in a tower, me at the Red Keep, and it killed our father and Brandon!"

Lyanna shrinks, grief passing her eyes at the mention of the deaths. She looks away from Alys, "I never meant for any of that. And it nearly killed me when Rhaegar told me what the king had done to them. I just…" Lyanna lets out a breath, and shakes her head before looking back to Alys to meet her gaze, seemingly imploring her to understand. "I never wanted to marry Robert, and then I met Rhaegar, at the tourney. And he was so kind, and understanding and it was as though he knew me for me, in a way Robert never would have."

"He was married, with two children." Alys remarks, "one of them still on the way when you first met him."

"I know," Lya says. "I, I hadn't intended anything when I met him at the tourney. It was just some silly fantasy then. But then, when we saw him at Harrenhal and he and I went for that walk. He offered it, to get me out of marrying Robert, to help me find my own way and future."

"A future as his mistress?" Alys says, "you have to understand how hypocritical that is? I mean one of the things you detested Robert for was that he had a bastard, and now you and Rhaegar have done near the same thing."

"My child won't be a bastard." Lyanna snaps, her own tone shifting from remorseful to defensive anger. "We married, not under the seven like Elia and him, but before the old gods. And Rhaegar said that he was planning to depose his father, and when he did our child would be made legitimate, he would make sure of it. Third in line after Elia's children, but legitimate."

"When he deposed his father?"

"Yes," Lyanna nods, "after he settles things with Ned and Robert, he is planning to pull his father off the thrown."

Alys blinks, taken aback. Her sister doesn't know. She thinks Rhaegar's alive, that the Mad King is alive. The flame of her anger fizzles, not put out entirely but doused by the how truly her sister believes in Rhaegar, in the idea that everything would work out in the end. "Lya," she starts, stepping close and taking her sisters hands. "He fought Ned and Robert at the Trident, a few months back." She moved her sister to the bed, motioning them to sit. Letting out a low sigh she looked to her sisters eyes, grey and wide with her brows above them furrowed in confusion. "He didn't win. They did. Robert killed Rhaegar on the trident."

"What?" Lyanna asks, blinking fast before shaking her head repeatedly. "No… no that can't be right. He said nothing about riding to battle. He said he'd sue for peace, get their support against Aerys, and with the condition that reparations would be made for what his father did to ours."

Alys felt her heart break for her sister, whose eyes were filling with tears. "He didn't, I'm sorry. He came to kings landing, for a little, and then he left with an army." She squeezes her sisters hands tight, "after— after that the rebels came to Kings Landing, as well as Tywin Lannister. They took the city, and Aerys died. Robert's been proclaimed king."

"No." Lya shakes her head faster, tears falling fully. Her voice cracking as she fell further into sobs "No, that's not how this was supposed to all go. I— this wasn't how I wanted this to go." Alys sighs for her sister and scoots closer pulling Lya into her arms and letting her sister find comfort as she cried against Alys.

"I know," Alys whispers against the crown of Lya's head. "I know it's not." The last of her anger fell away, perhaps not for good, but for now as she held her sister who'd fallen too far over her head and into something she had never expected.

* * *

**Quick updates are always nice feeling tbh!**

**Thank you for reading! We're almost to Jon which I'm really excited for.**

**I really hope I did Lyanna okay, because I do really like her character and think she's interesting and exploring the reasoning behind her and Rhaegar is fun, so it was cool being able to share my own ideas. I tried to make it an even sort of balance of both Lya choosing to run with Rhaegar but also not being entirely aware of what she was actually choosing. **

**Anyhow, thank you as always for all your favorites and reviews telling me your thoughts. They make my day every time and my heart goes all giddy when I see them. **


	25. The Third Dragons Birth

**_Alys_**

They spent the rest of the afternoon in that little room together. No one disturbed them, which Alys was grateful for. For a good while they just sat together, eventually they moved up onto the bed to lie upon it instead. Lyanna laying with her head on Alys's chest and Alys with her arms tight about her sister. Eventually they simply started talking. Alys first, speaking of anything she could imagine might cheer her sister up.

She talked of her journey south, of getting Elia and her children from the keep, though she doesn't mention much beyond their escape. She does talk about how much she hated the traveling, earning her a small chuckle from her sister that made Alys smile. She spoke of the Water Gardens, and how lovely they were. And of Oberyn and their games of Cyvasse. She told Lyanna about Jaime, a little, mostly about how he was only marginally better at chess than her, at least at the start.

"I'm afraid he's much better now," She remarks, "at least he was last I saw him. He'll probably be out of practice next I see him, so I'll have little to worry about going up against him."

"I'm sorry." Lyanna whispers against Alys, "that you got trapped there. Because of me. I'm sorry for it all." She cracks a bit, a sob catching in her throat, "for father, and Brandon."

Alys shakes her head, running a hand over her sisters hair. "I know you never meant for any of this." She tells her, "and father and Brandon would know that too." She shifts, so Lyanna would look up at her. "Lets not focus on what's happened, but on the future." She pushes the dark hair from her sisters face and smiles to her, hoping it's as reassuring as she wants it to be.

Lyanna nods, and returns a watery and fragile smile. She settles back into Alys, and looks down to her stomach, resting a hand upon it. "It's a girl."

"Really? How are you so certain?" Alys asks, following her sisters gaze.

"Because Rhaegar was," Lya's voice catches slightly upon his name but she pushes forward. "Part of it, of us, was this prophecy he had learnt of as child." She whispers it, a quiet memory it seems to Alys. "Elia couldn't have any more children, or at least it wasn't safe for her to. But he needed three. He said, _the dragon has three heads._" Lya runs her hand over her stomach. "Like the original Targayens in Westeros. Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya." Her voice softens on the last name, her hand stilling and a smile coming to her face. "Alys feel," she reaches for her Alys's hand bringing it to her stomach and resting it carefully.

Alys holds still, not feeling anything. But then she feels it, a small pressure against her hand, and a smile spreads over her face.

"It's a girl," Lyanna repeats, "and her name will be Visenya. To go with her half-siblings."

"And if it turns out to be a boy?" Alys joked, but Lyanna shook her head once more.

"It's a girl," Lya states firmer before her voice quiets. "It has to be."

Alys nods before looking to the window and noticing the sun's nearly set. "Come on," she says, "we should find some dinner." She helps Lyanna sit up, and then together they stand. "And I should check on my companions, make sure they've not ended up crossing swords with yours."

"I feel we would have heard it if they had," Lyanna remarks as they move towards the door. "Sound travels far in the tower."

They find their way down a flight, to a room where Oberyn sits beside the window and Howland is fiddling with the ends of his spear next to him. The only kingsguard within is Arthur Dayne who glances up the second Alys and Lyanna enter. "I was nearly about to fetch you," He says, motioning to the assortment of food on a table behind him. It's simple, not much fanfare or intricacy to it.

"Is it just you all here?" Alys asks, after Lyanna's sat at the small table, moving to sit as well. Oberyn moves from his spot at the window sill to sit beside her as Howland shifts more into the spot that was left vacant, his eyes scouring the darkening outdoors.

"Yes," Arthur states, filling a goblet for her and handing it. "We've all gotten proficient enough at preparing food."

"Why do you not have anyone here?" Alys asks, "I mean, even just a servant or two, or a maester or midwife." She glances to Lyanna who frowns and turns her own gaze to Arthur.

"No one is supposed to know we're here." He says, sitting as well finally. "Rhaegar gave us the instructions of guarding the tower and Lyanna until his return."

Lyanna's face falls and she lets out a low breath before setting her food back down. "He's not coming." She says to Arthur who shares her saddened gaze.

"Yes," Oberyn speaks, picking at his food, "we informed the Kingsguard of their lieges fates while you two were away."

"I can't…" Arthur shakes his head. "I can't believe he died. Nor that Ser Jaime did what he did."

"He did what he had to." Alys says, garnering Arthur's gaze to meet hers. "Aerys was mad, and the city was a lost cause he wasn't willing to give up. Jaime was forced to make a horrible choice, but it was the right one."

"He swore his life to the king," another voice comes in, Oswell Whent standing in the doorway. "He broke vows that he'd made before the gods and men alike."

Alys frowned and turned her gaze to him, "he swore his life to a king that burned innocents and delighted in it. You all did. Doing it before the gods does not make it just or right." She shifts further to face Oswell entirely, "and you are one to talk, you didn't kill the king but neither were you there when it happened. Instead you were here because his son asked you three to be." Oswell is frowning at her, his eyes narrowed. "You swore your vows to King Aerys first, not Rhaegar, or am I wrong?"

Oberyn snorts beside her while Lyanna rests a hand to Alys's arm "Alys, please." Turning to her sister, Lyanna's eyes are imploring, and confused it seems at Alys's arguing.

Letting out a sigh she turns back to her food. "What will you all do now?" She asks, "Rhaegar and his father are dead. But the queen is on Dragonstone, with Viserys and another child on the way if I heard right." She looks to them, she doesn't mention Rhaenys or Aegon, not knowing what Oberyn has told them or what he'd wish them to know.

And it wasn't just just Aerys they'd left defenseless when they stayed here.

"We fulfill what we were instructed to do," Oswell says still frowning her way. "Protect the tower and Lyanna until her child is born."

"And after?" Alys inquires.

"I want to go home," Lyanna says, looking between the two kingsguard, "to Winterfell. With my child."

"Robert will never let you do that," Arthur states, "especially not with Rhaegar's child in your arms."

"Ned could speak with Robert," Lyanna says. But Alys frowns, and glances to Oberyn who shares her gaze.

"Robert wishes all the Targaryens dead," she says. "I heard him, Lya, maybe something could be done. But we'll have to be careful." Alys hopes, for Lyanna's sake, that she is right and her child is a girl. A girl would be less of a threat to Robert, as the Martells believed for Rhaenys.

"He'll never know," Oswell says, "Hightower has his plans. None of them involve the usurper ever knowing of Rhaegar's newest child."

"You'd have me leave Westeros?" Lyanna inquires, turning her gaze fully to Oswell.

"For the safety of your child, Lyanna." Arthur says, leaning over the table to take her hand. "It would be best and likely what Rhaegar would want."

"What Rhaegar would want?" Lyanna asks, anger and grief laced through her tone. "Rhaegar is dead, what he'd want or not is hardly for us to say. It is my child, and I want her safe but I also don't want her to grow up in foreign lands."

"What would you tell Ned?" Alys asks, looking at the kingsguard.

"Nothing," Oswell says, "the risk of him informing Robert is too great."

"You'd have our brother never learn of where Lyanna's gone?" Alys asks. "You can't do that."

"We'll do what we must," Oswell states. "Rhaegar charged us with protecting this child. And we will."

"Have I no say?" Lyanna asks, pushing back from the table. "It is my child, and my life. My family." She gazes at the two.

"Lyanna," Arthur speaks gently, trying to calm the situation it seems. "We only wish for what is best."

"And leaving her out of that discussion is best?" Howland spoke up. "And besides her, what of the three of us? House Stark is who I am sworn to, and house Stark rose the north up against the Targaryens. Why should I lie to my lord about his sister's fate?"

Oswell looked to the crannogman, who seemed unfazed by the kingsguard's glare.

Alys was torn on the discussion. She did not wish her sister to go anywhere after this but home with her. But she also couldn't fault the worries of the kingsguard regarding Robert. She wasn't even sure what he'd do if he learnt of Lyanna and Rhaegar's child.

But she could imagine he'd be angry.

But would he kill a babe solely for the fact of who their father was? She feared she already knew the answer.

Perhaps there was some other way, they simply needed time to think of it. "Howland is right," she finally adds, earning Oswell's glare to return to her. "Leaving Lyanna out of the discussion is not fair, it is her child." She looks to Lyanna, "also, her and Rhaegar running off caused this war in the first place. Will her running once more truly solve anything? Or only cause more problems."

"The child could be claimed by another," Oberyn proposes, "one of you perhaps." He smirks at Oswell's shaking of his head.

"Hightower will decide, as is his right and duty as Lord Commander."

"For a king and a prince that is dead." Alys reiterates.

"But not a house," Oswell says, "and we will continue to serve the rightful lords of the Seven Kingdoms, not some usurper." He looks to Arthur, "and we will honor Prince Rhaegar's orders to protect his child, from danger and view."

Arthur nods after a moment, before looking to Lyanna. "We have time still, perhaps not a lot, but some, before we must decide."

"A decision I will have a say in." Lyanna states, before sighing, "I'm going to speak with Hightower."

"I'll accompany you," Arthur says, and with that the pair leave and Alys sinks further into her chair.

* * *

Alys found it hard to sleep.

Rolling over in the bed she glanced at Lyanna, who seemed to not be having similar issues. Despite her having returned from talking with Hightower upset, she'd fallen asleep rather quickly. She'd only told her a bit of it. Apparently Hightower was reluctant to discuss it in general with Lyanna.

Alys was worried for her sister. Worried, once again, what would come next.

Would she ever stop worrying on the future?

Or was that her life now? Wondering, always, if the path they decided on was the right one? Worrying over those she loved and cared for.

She was tired of it.

She missed the simplicity of life from before this all. When her biggest worries were the goings-on of Winterfell.

She rolls over once more, before getting up from the bed entirely and wandering to the window within the room. Settling on the seat beside it she leans against it to feel the cool night air outside, her eyes shutting a few moments to just breathe.

Her mind turned to Jaime in Kings Landing, and she wondered how he was doing since she'd left.

Once again she wished that she'd been able to speak with him before she'd left. The kingsguard here's disapproval of his killing of Aerys made her wish it even more, as she's sure he could have used some assurance that he'd done the right thing.

And she did believe he had. It was something that needed to be done. She would never fault him for it.

She turns her gaze back to Lyanna asleep on the bed and realizes she wishes that Jaime were there instead.

She missed it. And him.

She feels that she'd have little trouble sleeping if it were him instead of Lyanna beside her.

Which was odd. She'd never had trouble before, she'd found her sister's presence a comfort before.

But the bit of betrayal she felt now, still, from her sister's actions stirred in her.

She couldn't bring herself to be truly angry, not at the moment. But it was there, still. She wondered if it would ever leave, or if this was a part of her now. Anger towards Lyanna, a thing that once upon a time she'd never have considered possible.

She'd been upset by Lyanna before, as was bound to happen between siblings. But she'd never truly been angry at her. Or any of her siblings.

She'd certainly never yelled at them.

It wasn't how she dealt with these things. She didn't take them out on someone, she took it away. Settled it with herself, separating herself from whoever or whatever upset her until it had passed and she could be near them again.

She couldn't do that now. She couldn't give her sister silence, and she couldn't leave her. Lyanna needed her now, and perhaps would need her for some time to come.

So she looks away, to the moon high in the sky outside of the tower and pushed the anger away into it's own little corner of herself. A spot for it to stay until she could deal with it, however that may be.

She leans her head against the stonework, and looks to the stars. Letting her mind go to things of happier origins, and wander from there.

Eventually her eyes shut, and she drifts to sleep. Her last thoughts being the Godswood at Kings Landing, of games of chess, and finally of Jaime.

* * *

Alys is awoken by her sister's groaning. A soft and mewling sound that seems sourced in discomfort.

She's still leant against the stonework at the window, her legs curled up beneath her and the sun cresting over the mountainside. Bathing the area surrounding the Tower in a gentle light.

"Alys…" Lyanna calls, and Alys blinks away the last bit of grogginess as she turns to find her sister sat up with her eyes squeezed shut as she breathes carefully. Her face twisted with pain and a hand placed protectively over her stomach.

"Lya?" Alys moves quickly to her, kneeling before her and placing a gentle hand to her sisters face.

"I think it's time." Lya breathes, a frown to her lips as she lets out another breath. "I don't know though."

"Okay," Alys says, pushing some of Lyanna's hair from her face. "I'll tell the others, we'll see what we can do."

"Thank you." Lya says, and Alys gives her as reassuring a smile as she can before heading out of the room and down the steps to the floor below.

In the room below Lyanna's she finds Oberyn and Howland. She's grateful that Oberyn is already awake, the Dornishman sharpening his spear when she opens the door. He raises a brow at her upon her entry, "Lya's going into labor, I think."

"You think?" Oberyn asks, standing and setting aside his spear to walk with her. Howland turns over in his bed to peer at them.

"I haven't exactly studied birth, I only know what I was told growing up, but in truth it wasn't much." Her mother would have been the one to tell them, but she'd died when Lyanna and her were still young, neither girl having even flowered yet when she had passed. Maester Walys had told them some, so had Old Nan, but Alys had the feeling even with that little education on the ways of labor and birth neither Stark girl were truly prepared.

Howland sits up the rest of the way in his bed with a yawn, while Oberyn nods and remarks "I read a bit, during my time at the citadel. Not much, certainly not enough for a link, but a bit." He motions for Alys to lead the way up to Lyanna.

"Howland," Alys calls, "can you inform the others?" He nods and then the pair leave him to dress and fetch the kingsguard

"She should have a maester here, or a midwife." Oberyn remarks as they start up the steps. "It is rather reckless of them to have not sent for one."

"They seem determined to keep her hidden," Alys says with a small sigh. "But you're right. Childbirth can be risky even in the best of situations." She recalls Jaime, speaking of his mother. As the Lady of Casterly Rock she'd likely been surrounded by midwifes, with a Maester as well at her side.

And yet she had died.

"Oberyn," she reaches for him, grabbing his arm and stopping them at the top before they enter Lyanna's room. "The kingsguard are determined to stay here and guard Lyanna. They might not be willing to leave to fetch one." She meets his gaze worriedly, "if they aren't, would you? Starfall isn't far if I recall the maps, and I've heard labor can take a while, especially a woman's first child."

Oberyn looks down at her, his dark eyes looking over her before he nods. "If none of the kingsguard will, then I'll go for you." Alys lets out a relieved breath and then releases his arm, the two of them continuing on into Lyanna's room to her stood by the window, a hand on her stomach and her face furrowed in pain before she lets out a low breath and looks their way.

* * *

Oberyn does end up riding for Starfall. With a letter from Ser Arthur as well, asking for a midwife and a wet-nurse (which Lyanna asks for herself). Oberyn promises to ride fast, and Alys hopes it will be enough.

She's terrified, she realizes quickly, for her sister. Of what might happen if they're left to do this without help.

But she bottles that fear away, far inside her so Lyanna won't see it as Alys stays with her and does what Oberyn instructed her to before he'd left. Howland leaves with Arthur to fetch water, and Alys spends the next several hours at her sisters side. Walking with her about the small room, and holding her hand as the pain of contractions makes her cry. Using a gentle cloth to wipe away the sweat that slowly gathers on Lyanna's brow, and when they return with water she uses it to cool the fabric to press against Lyanna's skin.

And through it all she makes sure she's steady in it. Not showing any fear, or worries, or anything but support and assurances.

Because Lyanna is fearful enough.

That becomes clear quickly to Alys, as they pass midday and enter evening and her sister cries through more contractions. She weepily tells Alys of her fears, that she'll pass and her child will be left alone.

"That will not happen," Alys assures, as she has throughout the day. Pushing a lock of hair from her sister's forehead. "You will be okay, you'll be there to raise your daughter and it will be all okay."

She prayed, silently to herself, that she was not lying to Lyanna.

"I've dreamt it," Lyanna says, after the sun starts to set. "It's all I've been dreaming for the last few weeks. My blood covering the bed. And the flowers. The same ones from the crown Rhaegar gave me." She winces, stopping in her speaking as another contraction passes through her. When it falls away she slumps back into the bed. "They're bloody as well."

Alys shakes her head, and runs a hand gently through Lyanna's hair. "Those are just dreams." She says. "Just dreams," she assures softly.

The moon is high in the sky when Lyanna's contractions are too close together and Alys realizes that Oberyn will not be returning in time.

Arthur joins her, apparently having been the kingsguard to read on childbirth alongside Lyanna the last few months. The pair of them ready themselves, and Lyanna screams with the pressure and the pain. Alys coos words of encouragement and the stands readily by her sister's feet, prepared to help guide the baby as she spots through the blood that was already soaking into the bed the crown of their head.

"Good, Lya, you're doing so good." Alys says, her own breath heavy though she works to steady it as she reaches. "Just a push away, a big push."

Arthur wipes at Lyanna's forehead, one of his hands holding hers as she screamed through the next contraction. Alys stares wide eyed and reaches as the pop of pressure comes and soon mingled with her sisters cries are that of a newborn.

Alys brings some clean cloth to the baby's skin, wiping the blood from it and a smile creeping to her face as she looks them over. She reaches for the knife Arthur had set on the table nearby and after tying the the cord she brings the knife to it and severs it.

"Alys?" Lyanna cries softly, "is she okay?"

Alys looks to her sister and smiles before nodding, gently she moves with the baby towards her sister. Arthur stepping away as Alys comes. She looks once more to the babe in her arms and then to her sister.

"It's a boy, Lya." She says, settling the still softly crying babe in her sister's arms, "and he's perfect."

* * *

**Thank you for reading! **

**This chapter was nerve-wracking to write and I'm still not sure if I did a great job, but I'm tentatively happy with it. But hey, Jon's here! so yay!**

**I want to, as always, say thank you for the kudos and the comments. I loved seeing all the reception to Lyanna in the last chapter and it was also interesting seeing how you all interpreted Alys's interaction with her. Seriously, like seeing comments on this character that I've made and this story I'm telling is always fantastic and lifts my spirits so much. So again, though I'm sure I sound like a broken record every chapter, thank you so much for it!**


	26. Promise Me

_**Alys**_

Alys is still awake when the sun rises. She watches her sister carefully, head turning but eyes closed in a restless sort of sleep. Sweat gathered at her brow and an occasional look of pain or confusion coming across her face.

Alys rose from her spot at the window and brought the wet cloth to Lyanna's head again, glancing once more at the end of the bed.

At the red of the blood that still slowly soaks the covers.

She hasn't stopped bleeding. It slowed after Alys stitched what was torn well enough, and she did what she could to stop it. But it didn't seem enough, because blood still came.

And then the fever came.

Lyanna's skin hot to the touch and soon her moments of lucidity falling away for dreamlike moments between sleep.

Alys was glad they'd managed to get her son fed in a period of Lyanna's lucidness. She doesn't want to think about what would happen if they couldn't feed him.

She wants to think less of what might happen if Lyanna does not get better.

Instead of thinking, she focuses upon tending Lyanna. She's done this, tended a sick sibling. Tended her sick mother, too, when the illness had struck her and fever raged through Lyarra Stark's body. Alys had sat for hours then too, at her mother's side with snow-cooled rags that she wiped at her brow. She'd refused to leave her mother's side. Not until she was better, or gone.

Once again, Alys refuses to leave.

She prays. So much. To the old gods that are far out of her reach, and even to the seven though she knows little of them and has never held faith in them. She prays that Oberyn returns with a Maester, a wet-nurse. Someone who can help Lyanna, and someone who can tend her son.

Those are the only moments she leaves Lyanna's side, a few sparing minutes to check on Lya's son where he sleeps in a basket on the table nearby. She's there, looking down at the boy when Lyanna calls for her again.

"Alys?" Lya's voice weak and shaking. "Alys… where… my son?" her eyes are open and Alys is quick to start comfort.

"He's fine," she says, "sleeping. Perfectly. He's so sweet."

"I'm scared Alys," Lya sniffs, tears forming in her eyes, "I'm scared for him. I'm not— I'm not okay. He's going to be alone. In danger."

"No,"Alys brushes away a tear when it falls down Lyanna's cheek. "He'll have you, you'll be okay."

But Lyanna just shakes her head, "you have to be there for him. Protect him. Please, Alys. Keep him safe."

"Lya," she starts, her own head shaking but Lya grabs her hand holding it tight in her moment of lucidness.

"Promise me. Alys. That you'll protect him, that you'll be with him."

Alys meets Lyanna's gaze, her heart hurting as she nods. "Okay, okay. I promise, Lya. I'll— I'll be there for him. I'll protect him, and love him, and keep him safe."

"Good." Lya says, falling back into her pillows. A wince crosses her face before she coughs out a sob. "Good." She nods her eyes squeezing shut as she falls away from awareness once more.

She looks over Lyanna. And she prays for her sister to stop bleeding. For her fever to break.

For someone to come and help them all.

She hears the sound of riders, but Lyanna is whining and so she doesn't leave to look out the window. She hopes it's Oberyn, and wipes more at her sisters brow before taking her hand and smiling. "It's okay, Lya, it's okay." She soothes.

Then, like a bell in the air, the clang of metal reaches Alys's ears and her head turns to the window.

"Alys?" Lya cries, "Alys… my son… where…" Alys squeezes her sisters hand.

"It's okay, you're both okay" she says again before moving towards the window and watching as the great-sword Dawn rises and meets in a loud clash with the sword of her brother.

_**Ned**_

_Now, it begins._

Ned's sword swings up hared to meet Arthur Dayne in defense, the ringing of his steel meeting the ethereal blade of house Dayne echoing through the mountains around the tower.

Finding it hadn't been as hard as expected. Before he'd departed from Kings Landing he'd gone through all the reports and whispers of where Rhaegar might have brought his sister, and in the end he'd found talk of a tower gifted to the prince upon his marriage to Elia Martell.

Still, a part of him had worried that he'd gotten it wrong as they rode from Storm's End to the Prince's Pass. That he'd come here and all that it would be is an empty tower.

But as he and his party rode up with the tower in sight he saw three men in kingsguard armor by the tower steps in the mountainside, he knew he'd gotten it right.

Ned's breath had left him with relief at the knowledge that his sister, perhaps both even, was near.

There had seemed no way forward but this, steel meeting steel and blood spilling onto the red sand and mountainside. Ned would see his sister, and the Kingsguard had said they'd let no man pass. Rhaegar had given them orders, protect the tower.

So it began.

Ned dodged back once more, narrowly avoiding the carving path of Dawn as it swung down his way. He heard a cry to the side as a man fell, but he couldn't tell who. Nor of which side, for if he diverted his attention even a second it was likely he'd dead the next.

Arthur Dayne is likely the greatest swordsman of the age. That was known across the seven kingdoms. This man had slain the Smiling Knight in single combat. He was the deadliest with a sword of the Kings Guard, and no man had ever matched him in battle. He fights with a sword as sharp and strong as Valyrian steel, and likely drenched in magic.

Though Ned was skilled with his own sword, and had fought in battles to come out the other side unscathed, he was younger, and could barely hold his own against this man made for legend.

He was pushed back, his own sword barely meeting each blow as Arthur rained down on him with little relenting.

Ned was relieved from the assault, for a moment, when Ethan Glover's sword parries Dawn and the two move forward in advance for once against Arthur.

To the side of them Ned can just see Martyn Cassell and Theo Wull downing and ending the Kingsguard Oswell Whent before spinning to meet the Lord Commander's sword. Wull fell while Cassell staggered away from Hightower, his sword rising quick to meet the White Bull's sword before Mark Ryswell joined in against the man.

Ned's attention fell back to Arthur as the man cut down Ethan, sending Brandon's former squire to the ground with blood flying across them all.

Swords rise and meet with a song of battle as Ned resumes his singular combat with the Sword of the Morning. He sidestepped and dodged and met blade to blade at every second but Ned was feeling with every swing of Dawn against his sword that he wouldn't succeed. He wasn't matched to this man, and it would be his end.

Ryswell slashed towards Dayne's back, making the man swing around towards him before catching Ned's bannerman across his chest and bleeding red across the northern leathers as he fell. Cassell came forth, one arm limp from his fight with Hightower and stabbed forward with his sword to be met with Dawn through his front.

Ned steadied himself as Dayne turned back in his direction. Some part of his mind noted a figure making it's way down the mountain steps from the tower. But his mind couldn't stray far from the man before him as Arthur pushed forward again.

Swinging, and hitting, and Ned losing strength with every nearly missed parry.

His strength staggered and Dawn ripped across Ned's arm. Sending him staggering while Arthur waited a second in Ned's recovery as he raised his sword again to meet the man.

_He will die._ Ned thinks of himself, _these are his last moments._ He wouldn't see Lyanna again, or Alys. He wouldn't help Robert to the throne, or sit with Jon Arryn.

He wouldn't see Catelyn. Wouldn't relish her kiss or share the warmth of her bed.

He would never meet his child.

_This would be his end._

A prayer flew through his mind as Dawn sliced through the sky down towards him.

And stopped.

Shaking, and struggling the Sword of the Morning stood still in his spot. Ned stared at him, stunned at it all as his slow accepting of death had been cut away in a second. He looked as though his breath was caught in him, and when Ned looked at his eyes gone was the purple and instead they were clouded.

Ned moved with only the thought of his own demise hanging with Dawn in the air a second from resuming it's crash towards his body. Bringing his sword forward his delved in deep into the space below his armor and up into his torso. With it the cloudiness left Dayne's eyes and Dawn fell clattering to the ground as Ned drew the sword back out in a shower of red.

Arthur fell to his knees, blood choking up into his mouth as he fell forward. Ned whispered a prayer once more, but for Arthur now instead of himself as he brought his sword down to finish the man's pain.

When he looked up he saw Howland Reed leant against the stone, sweaty and eyes half closed as he stared at Arthur Dayne's corpse.

_Now it ends._

* * *

The first thing he noticed climbing up the tower, was the smell of blood.

He thought, for a moment, it was simply him. The blood of the battle.

But it wasn't the smell of fresh blood that was within the tower as he made his way up. It was old blood and new. And when he entered the room Howland told him of he found the source.

Lyanna was there, lying in a bed of blood.

Her eyes went to him and through her pained and tearful gaze she smiled weakly, "Ned?" she cried, her voice cracking with it.

"Lyanna…" He says, his own voice hushed as he rushes forward to her side.

"Is that you?" she asks as he settles beside her. She was feverish, and seemed barely lucid as she brings a weak hand up to him that he takes with his own.

"Ned?" His gaze turns to see Alys in the doorway. She has blood on her dress as well, and sweat on her own brow. But as she moved forward he knew it wasn't because of a similar ailment to Lyanna. She sets a bucket down, water sloshing in it as she turns her gaze to Lyanna, to the blood. "She's…" her voice cracks before she squeezes her eyes shut and her head shakes, "she's not…"

"Is that really you, Ned?" Lyanna's voice draws him back to her as he brings a hand gently over her hair. "You're not a dream?" she asks her voice soft and watery. He hears Alys move to the end of the bed, and from the corner of his eye he can see her wrapping her arms tight around herself.

"No," he says, a gentle smile coming to his face. "I'm not a dream." He says it soothing, squeezing her hand carefully and brushing down her hair again. "I'm here. Right here."

Lya smiles, a weak laughter to her voice as she says "I've missed you, big brother."

"I've missed you too." Ned feels tears creep from his eyes and he looks again to Alys, "what's wrong with her?" he asks, his sister looking to another part of the room where his gaze almost follows before Lya's voice pulls him back.

"Ned," her voice mixing with tears. "I want to be brave."

He squeezes her hand again, "you are brave." He tells her. Because she is, she always has been. Brave and willful Lyanna, who fights squires off with wooden swords and runs away and always says what she thinks.

"I'm not." Her voice breaks, her head shaking against his hand. He looks down to the blood on her covers. "I don't want to die." She says and his heart tears.

He doesn't want her to die. He doesn't want another member of his family to die. He lost mother, all those years ago. Then father and Brandon. He doesn't want to lose Lyanna too. So he tells her, "you're not going to die." Hoping if he says it it will be true, though he knows just like he'd known when Arthur's sword was coming down at him, that this was death.

And there was no stopping this like Howland stopped Arthurs sword.

He looks again to Alys, "is there nothing to be done? No maester?"

"Oberyn left for help the other day," Alys says, wiping away tears from under her eyes. "He should return soon… but…" a sob catches in her throat as she looks at their sister. "I don't… I don't think it'll be soon enough."

Ned wanted to shake his head at that, to say that there had to be something to do. But Lyanna was pulling at his hand, bring him back to her as she said, "listen to me Ned." Her eyes meet his and bore into him that this is the most important thing to her while she lingers in pain and at the call of death. "You and Alys… you are all he'll have."

Ned blinks, and his gaze falls to the spot Alys had looked to. A table, and upon it a small basket. He can see, just barely, the head of babe swaddled in blankets within. "Lya…" he starts but she squeezes his hand tighter.

"Protect him." She begs, "if Robert finds out, he'll kill him. You know he will." Her eyes are bright, shining grey through the fever as she implores to him to protect her son. Her son, she has a son. "You can never tell him. You have to protect him." He can hear Alys stifling a cry as Lyanna speaks. "Promise me, Ned." Lyanna cries, sniffling and tears falling from her as she speaks. "Promise me."

Her breath is quicker. "Alys?" she calls, "my son… Alys." Ned looks following as Alys moves to take the child from where he lies, and brings him over. Kneeling beside them both as Lyanna grasps Ned's hand all the tighter as he eyes turn from him to her son. "Promise me, Ned."

He looks at him too, the babe in Alys's arms that turns his head at the disruption. Blinking slowly, until grey eyes so like their sisters open and Ned feels grief already soaring.

"Promise me." She calls, her voice weaker and her hand loosening. "Ned." She breathes the word. "Promise me…." Her breath shortens, and Ned looks with tears falling from him at the boy.

"I promise, Lyanna." He breathes the words like a vow taken, the sound mixing with Lyanna's staggering breaths into silence. "I promise."

* * *

**_Thank you for reading!_**

**_Some deaths are sadly necessary, though it did hurt me greatly to kill Arthur Dayne. _**

**_Thank you as always for favorites and your amazing reviews!_**


	27. A Question of Love

_**Alys**_

There was a light breeze coming through the mountain as she looks over the eight piles of stone. Eight piles for eight of the nine deaths at the Tower of Joy, a name that seems no longer fits this small place.

Lyanna's was not in the cairns, she was coming with them. Returning to Winterfell.

She'd argued with Ned that they shouldn't leave the rest here, in the middle of nowhere, far from their homes and family. But he'd shook his head, and told her they couldn't take them all. He wouldn't even tell her much about the battle beyond that it happened and that Howland had saved his life against Arthur Dayne. He wouldn't answer much beyond that, and Alys found she didn't wish to ask for fear of the answers.

She presses a hand to the stones that buried the Sword of the Morning, and whispers a prayer. He'd been kind, especially it seemed to Lyanna. Alys had thought him a good man. The other two kingsguard she hadn't been as fond of, though despite all that they had allowed her to stay even if they'd not seemed overtly pleased with it.

Regardless of her feelings of them all, it seemed like too much death.

She was tired of death.

It seems all that has come from Lyanna and Rhaegars actions is death. Death of father, and Brandon. The deaths of countless in rebellion and war. The death of a king. Of northmen. The deaths of all but two Kingsguard. The death of Rhaegar himself, and the death of Lyanna.

She longed for it to stop.

She hoped this was the end of it.

Howland and Ned had spent the better part of the day working on these cairns. While Alys had busied herself tending Lya's son, as best she could.

It was a great relief when Oberyn arrived with a wet-nurse in tow. He hadn't gotten a midwife, as apparently at Starfall the Lady Ashara was in her own birth and they couldn't spare her. But it mattered little now it seemed, as it would have been too late anyway and all they need now is the wet-nurse.

"I'll be heading for Starfall in the morning," Ned tells her, walking up beside her. "To deliver Dawn back to them."

"You should be taking his body as well." Alys states, earning a sigh from her brother.

"I'm only one man, as it seems Howland is intent on continuing on with you." He's frowning, though she doesn't actually look to confirm. "You should head north, right away. Not to Sunspear."

Now she is the one to frown, "I gave my word to Prince Doran, and to Elia."

After Oberyn's return she'd told Ned of her other reasoning for fleeing Kings Landing. She said only what she'd put in the letter she'd meant to send, that the babe Aegon had passed on the journey and that the Martells only wanted peace for Rhaenys and Elia. He'd seemed hurt that she'd hidden them from him, but she'd been (and still is) too tired to keep herself from pointing out that if she'd told him he would have informed Robert. And they would all be dead.

"I know," Ned says.

"And besides, traveling by sea is faster." She reminds him, "we'll be able to get Lyanna north quicker this way."

Ned just lets out a noise of acknowledgement at that before the pair are standing in silence. The sun was nearly set entirely, and Alys once again looked over the cairns. She can hear, just barely, from the tower the sound of Lya's babe crying before it's hushed away by the wet-nurse Wylla. Bringing to mind a topic they've avoided talking on since Lyanna's death.

"I'm claiming him." She says. Alys had thought on it almost exclusively after her tears ran out and she began busying herself with the boy. Then when Oberyn arrived he'd offered her an easy way to hide him. They'd say he was born in Sunspear from her, that when she left Kings Landing she was doing so not only to help Elia but out of discovery that she was pregnant.

They'd have to say that Ned found Lyanna alone, he'd come to Sunspear after he's done at Starfall and they'd all travel to Kings Landing together.

But that only works if Ned agrees.

"No," he says, his head turning to look at her.

She meets his gaze and summons all the sternness in her. "I am. I'm claiming him as my son, I can say I hid the pregnancy while in Kings Landing, I didn't socialize much those last few months outside a few people. And my dresses are modest enough it wouldn't have been impossible to hide." She faces him entirely, hoping to convey how serious she is about this. "I can say I gave birth in Sunspear, that Elia was the only person I told in Kings Landing."

"And if people question about the father?"

"I'll say it doesn't matter, that he's dead or gone." She crosses her arms over herself, "if they question further I'll say he was some guard I grew close with. Nearly no one paid enough attention my way to notice."

"It should be me," Ned says, "it wouldn't be unbelievable that I fathered a bastard during the war."

"Except that you are married, Ned," she tells him, "and not the sort of man to bed someone other than your wife."

"I'll say it happened before we wed then," he states, "some girl on the road."

"Whether it was before or after won't matter much to Catelyn," Alys says, "he'll still be a bastard of yours, that you'd raise under the same roof as her children with you. She'll likely be slower to trust you, and she'll view him as a threat to her own children. She's a kind woman, but that is a lot to ask of any lady. There is a reason lords don't raise their bastards alongside their true-born children."

Alys reaches and takes Ned's hands. "Don't start your marriage off with this strain."

"You'll be viewed unfavorably," he states, "and it will be hard for you to garner a marriage of your own."

"I don't need a marriage," she says with a sigh. "I would be happy enough, after all that's happened, to return to Winterfell and raise that boy as best I can." She looks a second towards the tower, her heart hurting at the memories it now holds. "He's all I have left of her, Ned." Tears burn at her eyes but she continues, "thus, if you claim him and I married I'd have to leave him behind. I don't know that I can do that. Especially not after losing her, I may still harbor anger for what she did but she was my sister. My twin." Grief weighed on her and she released Ned's hand long enough to wipe away a stray tear.

Ned looks over her, and she can see him working over it. And so, when she sees the reluctant acceptance in his dark grey eyes she releases a relieved sigh before taking his hand again. "Okay." He says it quietly and she smiles watery and grieving but relieved.

"Thank you, Ned." And he nods before they both head back up into the tower.

Alys looks once more to the cairns as they climb the steps, and once more whispers a silent prayer that all the death that has come to be the last of it.

* * *

Her sleep is restless that night, even despite the fact that she'd not truly slept since Lyanna went in labor.

She wakes up when the baby cries, despite Wylla telling her that she could tend him Alys still wakes and watches the Dornishwoman tend her nephew.

Son. Not in truth, but to the world he will be. She shakes away the guilt that builds, that she was claiming Lyanna's son as her own. That she'd mother him when Lyanna never would have the chance.

She dismisses Wylla after he's been fed and sits with him in her arms looking out over the view from the tower. His hair is dark, and his eyes grey like Lya's and hers. It would certainly make hiding him easier, she just hopes that he looks like a Stark as he grows as well. That he never develops any real resemblance to his father.

"You should be sleeping." She glances up to Ned stood in the doorway. She'd moved to another smaller room, not wanting to sleep within the room Lyanna had died in.

"So should you," she remarks, looking back to the boy.

"Did Lyanna name him?"

Alys shakes her head before pausing and laughing a short grief strewn sound. "Well, she named him Visenya, I suppose. But that was before he was born, when she thought he was a girl. She never got the chance to give him any other name." Her voice turns quiet, thinking of Lya's last hours. She wondered if it would ever fail to bring grief to her heart.

"It won't work for him." Is all Ned says.

"No," she agrees, "no Targaryen name will." She brushes a gentle finger over his face as he sleeps. "I'm thinking something simple, and common. Nothing too attention drawing."

"Like what?" He asks, his own gaze on the boy.

She shrugs with a sigh before thinking through the names she knows. She looks again to Ned and offers, "Jon, maybe? It's common enough. And if people want meaning, well, Jon Arryn was the man who could have killed you when Aerys decreed it, but didn't. That's meaningful to me."

"Jon." Ned repeats, moving closer and looking down at the boy.

"He'd be a Snow," she says, "even though he was born in Dorne, he'll be raised in the North."

"Jon Snow." Ned states, looking to meet Alys's gaze.

"Jon Snow," she repeats, a gentle smile to her face as she looks back to him. "It's got a nice enough sound to it."

* * *

Returning to Sunspear was a simple enough journey. And a quick one, which Alys was grateful for. Ned departed earlier than them, and Alys had hugged him tight before he'd mounted his horse and rode off towards Starfall. They did not linger in Hellholt this time, simply returning to the ship they'd left behind and sailing back down towards the sea. Ned would sail from Starfall after delivering Dawn; meeting them in Sunspear hopefully only a week or so after their own arrival.

The city of Sunspear is a welcome sight as they sail in. Oberyn disembarks first, meeting the guard and soon they're all escorted to the Martells keep. Doran, Elia and Rhaenys had moved back over a week ago, after Oberyn had written from Hellholt of their return. Aegon was still at the Water Gardens though, hidden away like he was some random babe toddling about the pools and not the heir to House Targaryen.

Alys settles into a room with Jon and Wylla in a smaller nursery attached. She settles herself alone after a evening speaking with Oberyn and Doran on the younger princes offer to help in hiding Jon as her bastard. Elia finds her soon after her they've finished, Alys sitting with Jon on the balcony of her room overlooking a little garden in the Old Palace as the sun finishes setting.

Elia was alone though right now as she sits beside Alys and peers down at Jon. It reminds Alys of her nerves when she'd first met the Dornish princess. Worried that she'd hate her because of what Lyanna did. She knows better to judge Elia that way, the princess had always been kind and compassionate. And she never held Alys to her sister's actions.

But Jon was the results of those actions. More a part of it than Alys had been.

He was the evidence of what Lyanna and Rhaegar had done. The hurt that it had caused the kingdoms and Elia herself.

But Elia smiles down at him, though Alys does note that there are hints of hardness to her gaze that don't overwhelm her look but add layers to it. "He's got the Stark look."

"Yes," Alys nods, "of which I'm grateful for."

Elia nods and Alys knows she's probably thinking of Aegon, who because of his resemblance to Rhaegar can't be easily hidden in Dorne. "And you've named him?"

"Jon." Alys says. Elia nods, a quiet hum as she looks over the babe. Alys simply rocks him gently and waits for Elia to say more, though she doesn't.

Finally tired of the quiet she speaks herself, "thank you. For agreeing to help me hide him."

"He's as innocent in this as Rhaenys and Aegon." Elia states, "he did not choose his parents, nor their choices that led to him."

"No," Alys agrees, "but still, thank you."

"You're welcome, Alys." Elia reaches and takes one of Alys's hands to squeeze. "It's a lot, what you're deciding to do. Are you ready to be a mother? And for what it will require you to give up? Especially as a mother to a bastard."

"Highborn ladies have had bastards before," Alys states. "And it matters little whether I am ready, I doubt Lyanna was ready and yet she was prepared to do so before she… I am prepared as well." She looks over Jon. "I'll care for him, never let him feel unloved. Keep him safe, no matter what."

"That's good." Elia nods, "but you didn't answer on your thoughts for what you'll be giving up."

"I'll be going home, I'll be with family." Alys says, meeting Elia's eyes. "I'd yet to be betrothed and most likely if Jon wasn't here Robert or Lord Arryn could have proposed a marriage in place of Lyanna, as it's not all that different than Ned marrying Catelyn Tully." She sighs and returns to looking at Jon, "now that won't be a problem. Jon will protect me from any unwanted marriages."

It was something she was grateful for. She'd never thought foully of arranged marriages before, she'd known it to be the way of things. She'd never truly given her own marriage much thought beyond the fact that someday down the line her father would choose a man and she'd do her duty. She didn't have Lyanna's same yearning for romance and a real love. Alys would have been happy with a keep to manage and a husband who treated her and their children kindly.

But lately, her thoughts of marriage was more something to dread. She supposes the way Lyanna had dreaded marriage to Robert. Alys was fearful of marrying someone she didn't know. She could see how arranged marriages had affected people, and not always in positive ways. Elia had been married to Rhaegar, yet that didn't stop him from pursuing Lyanna. Catelyn was meant to marry Brandon, but was now soon to deliver Ned's child. Robert, despite wanting Lyanna as a wife so greatly that he'd go to war, had never let it still his pursuing of other women or fathering of a bastard. And if Alys had returned with no means of refusing she likely would have ended up like Ned, married to the betrothed of a sibling.

No, she was quite content with the thought of not marrying.

Then Elia squeezes her hand and asks, "and what about wanted marriages?" Alys's gaze moves back up to Elia, her dark eyes comforting and seeing her far deeper than she'd recalled. "If you fell in love, but now it is not an option because you've chosen to claim him as your bastard."

"There's no one—" Alys says.

"Not even Jaime?" Elia interrupts softly. And Alys is blinking at the princess, a furrow between her brows as she looks her over. "You two grew quite close."

"He's a kingsguard. He can't marry." She states, and Elia's little smile makes her realize that his vows, which he'd already broken when he killed Aerys, were the first protest she had. Not her own feelings, which she hadn't even denied.

"He was a kingsguard to House Targaryen." Elia points out. "Perhaps he'll be released from his vows. Plus I imagine Tywin Lannister is pushing for exactly that, it was never any secret that Aerys brought Jaime into the kingsguard to scorn his Hand."

"But…" Alys shakes her head trying to work through her thoughts on what Elia has now put into her mind, or at least put into the focus of her mind. But Elia simply smiles further, though it seems a rather serious sort of smile.

"It's something to think on, Alys, hard." Elia states and Alys is suddenly reminded for the first time in their friendship that Elia has near ten years on her in age. "Because right now Jon is still a secret, you can change your mind and your brother could claim him or some other decision could be made to protect him."

And Elia squeezes her hand once more before releasing it, she looks to Jon again and smiles, still a hard sort of sadness to it that continues when she turns it back to Alys. "Goodnight," Elia says and then Alys is once again alone with Jon looking over Sunspear's gardens as the moon begins it's ascent.

* * *

It seems Alys has become doomed to suffer no restful nights as she turns over for what must be the hundredth time in the evening.

It's been three days in Sunspear, word of Ned sailing out for Sunspear arrived the other day and Oberyn said it was likely he'd arrive in another day or so if the weather was good.

Though Alys does not feel that it is Ned that is causing her restlessness.

It's Elia, and what she spoke of.

And in a way it is Jaime.

She misses again his presence in her bed and that only makes her think further on what Elia had said. They had grown close, but it had never seemed to be a romantic sort of closeness.

Or at least, she hadn't noticed it as such before.

Though in truth what did Alys know of romance, save what she's heard in song and story.

She knows her mother and father loved each other, but their love wasn't romance, not like the songs. They'd married out of duty, not love itself. But she knows they'd been fond of each other, at least she believes they had been. She can remember them being fond with each other.

Brandon and Catelyn had seemed on their way to love. She can recall all the times while she had stayed at Riverrun that she'd seen her brother make Catelyn blush and laugh. It had seemed so sweet, even Lyanna had looked at it with awe. But they never had the chance to truly fall in love, and now Brandon was dead and Catelyn was married to Ned.

Was she falling in love with Ned? Would she be able to?

Robert had claimed love of Lyanna, and Lyanna had claimed some love of Rhaegar though Alys figures that was more love of the freedom he represented even though it was a false freedom in the end. She also supposes it best not to think of love when it comes to Lyanna's suitors. None of it had seemed right and in the end it all became a mess, or perhaps it always had been one.

How was she thinking of Jaime in the frame of love?

She cared for him, much so. But was it love? Or even the way to it?

If it was, was there anything she could truly do about it?

His presence was a comfort, and she cares for him, and she longs for his company once more and has since leaving Kings Landing. She worries for him, greatly, and now wonders: is that love?

A cry cuts her overthinking short. She turns her head towards the nursery and rises from bed to head to it despite the fact that she knows Wylla can manage Jon well on her own and will likely tell her as much.

Wylla is rocking him while she walks in little circles, the wet-nurses eyes moving to Alys and the light chastising look Alys now recognizes as Wylla's way of telling her she doesn't need to fuss, especially now. But Alys dismisses it, "what's wrong?"

"Seems just a nightmare," Wylla states, "he ate not long ago so it's not that."

Alys holds her arms out for him, "I can rock him," she states. "I wasn't asleep anyhow."

Wylla's eyes narrow a second before she nods and Alys settles Jon against her, rubbing a gentle hand to his back as she heads back into her own room to leave Wylla to resettle in her bed.

She walks steadily along the balcony, back and forth, all while rocking Jon as he cries against her shoulder and slowly he seems to settle. His cry turning to hiccups and then to the quiet breath of sleep against her skin.

Instead of returning him to his cradle in the nursery she settles him carefully onto her bed and crawls onto it beside him, laying on her side to watch him carefully. She can see the gentle rise of his chest against the thin blanket he's wrapped in and occasionally his mouth moves like he's suckling at invisible milk. She can't help but smile softly at him.

Her mind slowly drifts back to where it had been before.

Perhaps, the way she feels for Jaime could, if nurtured, be love. Perhaps he'll be released from the kingsguard and she could confess her bubbling feelings and they could wed. Perhaps she'd have the romance and love that her sister longed —and died— for.

But could she do it at the cost of Jon?

He lets out a soft noise in his sleep and her hand goes to gently run over his head in comfort. And as she watches him sleep, her own breath evening and her own eyes slowly growing heavy, she knows her answer.

She cares so much for Jaime. She longs for his comfort and his company. And, if given the option, someday she could see herself loving him so greatly.

But she already loves Jon, perhaps more than she loves herself or anything before him, and for all she longs for Jaime and cares for him. She knows that Jon needs her more.

So the answer is settled in her heart as she drifts away beside him into a restful sleep.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**

**As always thank you so much for all your amazing reviews, I always love seeing what you guys think of the chapter and the story in general as well as your opinions of characters! **

**And for all the people missing Jaime (including me) don't worry! He'll make his return next chapter!**


End file.
